Walking Away
by ficmouse
Summary: AU S26 - Dylan/ Sam multi part - first Casualty fanfiction for some years. What would happen if one of them decided to let the other go and would the other let them walk away.
1. Chapter 1

Sam lingered in the staff room after the shift long after everyone else had left. They'd asked her to join them in the pub but the invitation had been half hearted. No one actually expected her to accept because she never socialised with her colleagues and she hadn't joined them this time either. Instead she took advantage of the deserted staff room to empty the contents of her locker into her backpack in peace. She wanted to catch Dylan before she left and she knew he was still treating a patient. He wouldn't hand over to the next shift until he was sure his patient was stable.

She was growing impatient an hour later when he still hadn't finished. She'd read a BMJ that was 2 months old, a Nursing Times from a fortnight ago and a rather disgusting men's magazine featuring scantily clad females that someone probably Lenny had left lying around. What was Dylan doing? Surely Dervla was waiting for him. The poor dog was probably desperate for a walk and a wee. If he didn't hurry she'd have to go without seeing him and there were things she wanted to say before she left.

"Still here," Dylan said when he walked into the room ten minutes later.

"I needed to speak to you?" she moved to stand closer to him only stopping when she was near enough to reach out and touch him if only she dared.

"Couldn't you have spoken to me earlier rather than hang about after the shift," He sounded puzzled rather than annoyed.

"Not really no. There were too many other people around." Sam said quietly keeping one eye on the door in case someone tried to come in. She really didn't want to be interrupted now.

"Well spit it out then. I'm tired, hungry and I want to go home." Dylan replied testily.

Sam sucked in a deep breath and willed her voice to stay steady "That was my last shift. I've been posted back to Afghanistan – my flight's tomorrow."

She was guiltily aware that she'd made it sound as if she didn't have a choice when actually she'd asked for a new posting – knowing that the powers that be would almost certainly send her back to Helmand. But even Helmand - hell on earth though it was – was better than being an unforgiven technicality in Holby.

"You kept that quiet." His voice was expressionless and as usual she didn't have a clue what he was thinking.

"I didn't want any fuss. Thought I'd just walk away. It's easier that way," she said hastily

"Why change the habit of a lifetime" Dylan retorted "It's what you always do isn't it – walk away."

Sam swallowed hard fighting the sudden urge to cry. She really didn't want to leave it like this. She wasn't expecting any kind of reconciliation – that hope had died months ago but it would have been nice if they could have come to some sort of understanding.

"I didn't want to leave without telling you." She said steadily "and to say that if you're tired of having a technical wife. If you want to get a divorce, I won't stand in your way." She didn't give him a chance to speak before continuing, "I have to go now. I've a train to catch. Be happy."

"Bye Sam, look after yourself." She barely heard his response it was so faint and she was already turning and walking quickly away aware of him staring after her.

Drawing on all her army training she kept her head high, shoulders back, spine straight and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other because no one must know. No one must ever know what the words had cost her, not even Dylan - especially not Dylan. She had her pride after all.

He didn't call her back and he didn't try to follow her. She hadn't really expected him to. That wasn't Dylan's way but she didn't realise until that moment just how much she'd been holding on to the frail hope that he would. He was probably relieved to have got shot of her with so little bother. He hated emotion after all. She walked on towards the station ignoring her burning eyes and aching throat. This was it she realised the end of Holby. She didn't feel the relief she'd expected to feel, just a bone deep sadness that there was nothing left to stay for.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you for the nice reviews. This part is up quite quickly because I've already written a certain amount over the past week. It was simply a case of having the time to get the pieces to hang together. The idea came when I was reading Walking Away by C. Day Lewis, the final two lines are:_**

_"How Selfhood begins with a walking away,_

_And love is proved in the letting go."_

Chapter 2

Twenty-four hours later and Sam had put half a world between herself and Dylan. Afghanistan was as inhospitable as ever. The harsh sun seared her skin and hot, dry air hit her like a smothering blanket the moment she emerged from the plane. Dust blew in her face filling her eyes and mouth with grit and she wondered what she'd been thinking of when she asked for this transfer.

Yesterday she'd been in a quiet West Country city – surrounded by gentle green landscape and even on the dampest grey chilly days it was more congenial than Helmand. Now here she was in one of the most hostile places on earth and she'd chosen to come here. She must be mad.

She did as her orders said and went straight from the airstrip to the base hospital to report to the senior medical officer – Brigadier Worth. She wasn't sure how she felt about working for Worth – she didn't know him but she knew of him and his reputation was that he was something of a Tartar. She'd got used to Nick Jordan's informal, firm but friendly rule and she had a horrible feeling that a return to Army discipline was going to come as an unwelcome shock. She'd never been good at being told what to do.

"Major Nicholls, Sir" Sam saluted smartly as she entered the Brigadier's office and introduced herself to the man who would be her boss for the next six months.

"Ah Nicholls – you've arrived. I was expecting you two hours ago."

"I'm sorry Sir – the transport flight was held up."

"Can't be helped I suppose. Those RAF boys are hopeless at timekeeping."

Sam longed to snap at him that those RAF boys had come under heavy sniper fire on their way in and the way they'd kept that plane in the sky was nothing short of miraculous but said nothing. It wouldn't help and would only get her off to a bad start with the new boss.

"I'm here now. When would you like me to start?"

"I think we can give you the evening off," Worth said as if he was conferring a huge favour on her. "I trust you found your sojourn with the NHS useful."

"Of course Sir," she smiled brightly. She was damned if she'd let him or anyone else know that her "little sojourn" in the NHS had left her desolate. "Mr Jordan is an excellent clinical lead. I've learned a great deal from him."

"I'm sure you did. I knew Nick Jordan when we were both senior house officers. He was always destined for great things. He sent me an email – apparently he's very sorry to lose you so soon but his loss is our gain. There is one thing," he paused.

"Yes Sir," Sam stiffened. Here it was the bollocking was on its way.

"I've heard all about that unfortunate contretemps with a patient, although not from Jordan. He was very reticent about that in his report on you. It's plain to me that you showed very poor judgement on that occasion Nicholls. I never want to see or hear anything like that out here do you understand." Worth was waggling his finger at her as if she was a naughty toddler.

"It won't Sir." She said stiffly hoping she did not sound as sullen as she felt.

Who'd been telling tales? It wasn't Nick and it wouldn't have been Dylan. Some stuffed suit in management perhaps. Worth didn't have anything to worry about. It wouldn't happen again. There'd be no need to do anything like that out here because there was no Dylan to protect. Did that fool think she'd do something like that for just anyone?

"You see that it doesn't. Now go and get settled in. I'll expect you on the recovery ward at 7am tomorrow morning. You can have a few weeks in the hospital to settle in, do a few clinics with the locals and let me see what you're made of. If I am satisfied that you are up to it, then we'll have you back on Cas Evacs."

"Sir," she saluted and marched smartly away fuming. Who did he think he was? She wasn't a green newcomer. This was her second tour of Afghanistan and she'd spent all those months in a busy City ED did he think she'd learned nothing at all.

The tiny bare room she'd been allocated in the hospital was as unhomelike as it was possible to be. Not that it really mattered, it wasn't as if she was used to a lot of home comforts and the room was only a place to sleep and perhaps do some studying. Sooner or later she'd have to start sitting specialist exams and she might as well be as prepared as possible. She was quite surprised Dylan hadn't nagged her about that in Holby. He'd always pushed her hard enough before but now he obviously didn't care enough about her to bother about how well her career did or didn't progress.

Clearly he didn't care at all or he would have come after her last night even if only to say goodbye at the station but he hadn't. She'd watched from the window hoping he'd come but knowing he wouldn't. By the time the train pulled out of the station she hadn't been able to see the platform for the tears. It was all over bar the paperwork.

Sam reached into her backpack removed a small paper wallet of photographs and selecting two favourites carefully propped them on the small locker beside her bed: one of the two of them taken on one of the rare happy days in their marriage and a more recent one of Dylan with Dervla. God she missed that dog almost as much as she missed the man. She'd minded Dylan keeping Dervla away from her in Holby but she'd understood why.

The traitorous lump was forming in her throat again and she swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to avoid the sudden rush of tears. She wasn't going to think about either of them now. She couldn't risk the emotional fallout. She'd blown her chance of love and happiness and she would have to learn to live with it or rather without it. She'd made her mistakes and now she would have to pay for it and go on paying probably until she died.

She hoped fervently she would be frantically busy out here and not have any time to think. That had been the only good thing about her previous stint here. There'd been no time to brood over past mistakes and she'd found she was less inclined to wallow in her own misery while all around her comrades were fighting and all too often dying.

All she had left was medicine so she'd have to throw herself into the job, grab every opportunity that came along to learn and develop so she could become the best trauma doctor she possibly could be and do her best to forget the sweet, brilliant, infuriating man she'd left behind. She could not - would not allow losing him to define the rest of her life.

The first ten days slid by in a daze of familiarisation, daily P.T. (she hadn't missed that at all), work and studying. She worked hard, every hour there was and then a few more, absolutely determined to show willing and prove that she'd put the unfortunate incident in Holby behind her. It helped too if she worked until she was so exhausted that when she went to bed she passed out as soon as her head touched the pillow – she didn't want time to think.

There was nobody left she remembered in the base hospital they'd all done their tour of duty and returned to calmer climes for a well earned rest. She was relieved to discover that a certain medical officer had departed for Germany. She couldn't blame him for her fall from grace, she'd been the engineer of her own misfortune after all but that didn't mean she ever wanted to see him again. She had no wish to be continuously reminded of her mistake.

There was no word from Dylan and for all she'd known that he wouldn't contact her again it still hurt. She'd been touched to receive a good luck card signed by Dixie, Jeff, Noel, Big Mac, Scarlett and Lloyd. Lenny had also sent her a postcard of Holby which he'd scrawled a few words on but there was only silence from the one person she wanted to hear from and the disappointment was almost overwhelming. Doubtless sooner or later she'd receive a cold formal missive from a solicitor and that would be it.

It was barely dawn and Sam was busy in the hospital preparing medical packs so she could go out with some of the nurses and run an outpatients clinic for local children in one of the schools when she heard Brigadier Worth calling her name."Nicholls!"

"Sir?"

"We're shorthanded. Davis has gone sick with Bastion Belly. I need you to go out with a Cas Evac team and do a retrieval. Think you're up to it?"

"Of course Sir," Sam smiled it would be good to get out and do something worthwhile and prove that she was more than up to the job. "What is it?"

"Roadside bomb and a tank patrol. One of them managed to radio in and ask for assistance. There's at least one traumatic amputation. The retrieval team is already waiting for you on the helipad. They were all set to go when Major Davis became indisposed."

"I'll get my kit and go." Sam rushed off to locate her body armour and find the helicopter wondering what she'd discover when they arrived on the scene.

The helicopter was loaded and ready for the off, it was quite clear that all they were waiting for was a doctor. Sam hurried over to it taking care to avoid the spinning rotors and hauled herself on board, grateful for the helping hand one of the medics extended to her. They were moving before they'd finished closing the doors because they were all painfully aware that every minute counted with major trauma and they'd already been delayed by Major Davis' sudden violent illness.

The pilot was an expert and had them over the site in less than 20 minutes. While he hovered looking for a good place to land, Sam stared down at the cracked sun-scorched earth below scanning the wreckage looking for signs of life in the ominously still crumpled forms she could see below.

"Aw shit, this ones going to be a bastard. Oh God I'm sorry Ma'am," the pilot apologised almost at once. Clearly he was one of those soldiers who didn't believe in swearing in front of a lady.

"Forget it," Sam said quickly. "Just get her down quick. You're right it is going to be a bastard."

She was sure two of the soldiers below were dead already it didn't always need a through assessment some things were dead giveaways but she might be pleasantly surprised. The two men furthest from the tank could be salvageable. One of them appeared to be trying to move one arm. They might be able to help him.

"Ma'am I've a really bad feeling about this," the pilot spoke again. "I know you Docs like to stabilise them at the scene but I reckon there are snipers about just waiting for us to come down. So do you think you could do this quickly?"

"I'll see what I can do." Sam agreed.

Officially she was the officer and the one in charge and it went against the grain to take advice from one of her team but she was also aware that she was a doctor albeit one with some army training and he was a proper and very experienced soldier. If his instincts said they should go in and go out he was probably right. She certainly wasn't going to risk all their lives to make a point.

"Right" she turned to her team and announced as if it was her idea rather than Sergeant Collins. "I'm worried about snipers so we won't hang around on the ground. We're just going to scoop and run. Any stabilising we need to do we'll do in the air on our way back. Sergeant Collins will stay with the helicopter."

"Yes Ma'am," both the young medics agreed meekly.

They both looked painfully young and she wondered if they were even old enough to shave let alone be sent thousands of miles away from their Mums to fight a battle that wasn't even theirs. She had no clue what the Army was doing in Afghanistan so she was damn sure they didn't.

Sergeant Collins' nervousness had infected her and Sam was out of the helicopter and running towards the casualties barking orders at her team before it had quite touched down. She was anxious to pick up the casualties and depart quickly. She knew what Sergeant Collins meant - there was an indefinable sense of menace here and every instinct she had was on the alert and screaming that they should get out. She'd learned to listen to her instincts on her last tour.

Both the young medical orderlies drew ahead of her before she'd run fifty metres and she was mildly irritated that they could both run faster than she could – she'd have to work out more. The two boys had just reached the crumpled heap of metal that had once been an armoured vehicle when she was vaguely aware of a thumping sound, something was ringing in her ears, the men in front of her seemed to evaporate and then she was flying backwards through the air.

"This is it," she thought confusedly "I've really gone and blown myself up. Dylan always told me I would. He's going to be so cross with me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to all the people who have said nice things about this effort. This part has involved masss of research because I'm in no way a doctor and until today I knew very little about blast injuries except from a WW2/ The Blitz perspective. The internet is a wonderful thing. I'm still not entirely sure about this chapter but it moves the plot on.**

Chapter 3

"Fine! I'll just wait for my patient's brain to turn into porridge while you decide if you can manage to give him a CT scan because it's after hours then shall I." Dylan slammed down the phone in a righteous fury. "What is it with radiography? Do they think I ask them to scan patients just to inconvenience them"

"You'd do better if you asked nicely," Zoe said mildly "You didn't even say please"

"It's her job dammit." Dylan snapped, "to scan patients. That's what she's doubtless underpaid to do."

"You miss her don't you?" Zoe said with a knowing smile that irritated the hell out of him.

"Whatshername in radiography. I don't think so."

"No, Sam of course"

"Why would you think that."

"Oh come on. You've been like a bear with a sore head ever since she left. Why don't you just call her?"

"Mind your own business" Dylan retorted wondering why every bloody female in the place thought it was acceptable to stick their nose into his personal life. Linda asked him if he'd heard from her each and every day and that Nurse thingie had asked him if he knew where they could write to her. He'd told her that if Sam had wanted her to have her address she'd have given it to her. Not for anything would he have admitted she hadn't left him a forwarding address either. Of course he could have worked it out and there was nothing to stop him calling her mobile or sending a bluey but he was damned if he would she was the one who'd walked out on him – again!

He stalked out to reception to collect his next patient slamming the door behind him; several members of staff scuttled out of his way, most people avoided Dylan these days. He was even more impossible than usual lately. Zoe followed wishing she'd plucked up the courage to bang Dylan and Sam's heads together before Sam had departed, she and Nick had had several conversations debating whether they should have just locked them into a room together and left them until they'd discussed the situation like grown ups. She was sure it would have worked in the end even if it had taken several days but Nick insisted tehy were both capable of holding it forever and he would have been left explaining to the board how two of his doctors has starved to death in the hospital.

The waiting room was heaving with drunks who were either bleeding or vomiting.

"I hate Saturday nights," Dylan muttered under his breath "the public just love to finish off their night out with a fun filled trip on the NHS."

He paused in mid stride when he saw the tall man in an army officer's uniform standing by the desk talking to Noel. He was wearing his beret. A sick feeling of apprehension filled the pit of his stomach he remembered Sam telling him that the families' officer or the CO always wore their beret when they came to break bad news. Apparently all the wives dreaded a senior officer appearing on their doorstep with a hat on.

The feeling of trepidation intensified when he realised that both men were looking directly at him. He walked towards them trying to look as if he just wanted the next set of notes.

"Dr Keogh," Noel was suddenly formal "Lt. Col Harris would like a word with you."

"Sam's dead isn't she?" he said dully. His reckless fool of a wife had finally gone and got herself blown up.

"I'm the Families' Officer for the Medical Corps. Is there somewhere we could talk," the officer said awkwardly.

"My office," Nick Jordan had appeared behind him and was suddenly propelling them towards his sanctum. Dylan was aware of Nick excusing himself and then it was just him, Lt. Col Harris and the thick silence that had developed between them. He stood stock still in the middle of the room waiting for the blow to fall.

Lt Col Harris cleared his throat loudly. "I'm sorry to have to tell you that there's been an incident a roadside bomb, Major Nicholls - Sam was the lead medic on the Cas Evac and there was a second bomb - a booby trap. She was caught in the blast."

She's dead isn't she?" Dylan said again.

"No, no Samantha's not dead," the man said sounding very wary as if 'not yet' was on the tip of his tongue.

"What happened to her," he said with difficulty his mouth had gone very dry and his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his palate.

"She has serious blast injuries, so they are repatriating her." The Lt. Col went on even more awkwardly.

Dylan felt instantly very sick. Blast injuries, not Sam, not his Sam. Everything he'd ever learned about blast injuries flashed through his mind and none of it was pleasant. He'd spent years dreading this. What on earth had happened to his bright beautiful wife? Had she been crippled, maimed, disfigured - all three? Would they fly her home only for to die enroute or in the hospital?

"How bad is it?" he asked dreading the reply

"I can't tell you many details – I'm not a medic. You'll need to ask her doctors about that. The incident occurred early this morning, Major Nicholls and the pilot were the only survivors. The pilot evacuated her from the site and flew her back to Camp. She had emergency surgery almost at once and as soon as she was stable enough they airlifted her home."

"Where will they take her? Here?"

"She's on her way to the Royal Centre for Defence Medicine at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham. You'll know more when they've assessed her there."

Dylan drove through the night alone. He'd refused various offers to drive him to Birmingham and told Charlie exactly where he could stick his tentative suggestion that he might be better off to get a train. He considered taking Dervla with him for company but he was aware that she'd be a very unwelcome hospital visitor and he didn't want to leave her alone in a cold car for most of the time. It was kinder to leave her safely at home.

It was a dark night, freezing rain lashed against the windscreen and visibility was appalling. The road seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him and he was aware that he was driving much too fast for the conditions and it wouldn't help anyone if he crashed the car. He just wanted to get to her, even though it was possible he'd still arrive before Sam did. He wasn't sure how long it took to fly from Afghanistan but he was sure he remembered her saying it took seven or eight hours in optimum conditions. She might not be well enough for them to fly very high or very fast. It was too far for a helicopter too so presumably they'd have to land an aircraft and either transfer her to a road ambulance or a helicopter and go on from there.

He wondered why it had taken them so long to tell him what had happened, it had taken more than 12 hours for the army to get their finger out and contact him. Admittedly he couldn't have got to her any sooner but that wasn't the point. He'd been out on the hills walking Dervla and enjoyed a good lunch in pub completely oblivious to the fact that his wife was fighting for her life.

Dylan had turned off the M5 and was close to the hospital when he saw the lights on the helipad switch on. He heard the helicopter long before he saw it hovering ready to land. That was probably them bringing Sam in. Common sense said he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near her until the medical team had assessed her and she was settled and stable but he put his foot down anyway and the car shot forward through the darkness. He ignored the signs asking him to limit his speed to 10mph in the hospital grounds and parked recklessly across three spaces, abandoning the car without bothering to pay for a ticket.

He stormed through a set of double doors allowing them to slam with a satisfying thump behind him and made his way up several flights of stairs to the Royal Centre for Defence Medicine. A very serene Queen Alexandra's Army nurse with an old fashioned starched cap was sitting calmly at a desk seemingly oblivious to the commotion going on at the end of the corridor.

"Can I help Sir?"

"I'm here to see my wife – Sam. She's been flown in this evening."

"Of course you must be Mr Nicholls, Major Nicholls has just arrived."

"It's Keogh not Nicholls. Dr Keogh" he snapped. "I want to see my wife."

"Of course you do Dr Keogh," She was all bright professional calm and Dylan yearned to shake her "I am sure you'll be able to see her shortly. It's a long flight and Dr Garrard and his team are assessing her now to see how well she's stood it. Take a seat and I'll see what I can do."

Dylan sat on the hard plastic chair she indicated with a very bad grace and she bustled off leaving him feeling as if he'd behaved badly when really it wasn't at all unreasonable a man wanting to see his wife. What was taking them so long anyway?

The nurse returned and smiled at him. "Major Nicholls is doing nicely and Mr Garrard will be along to see you shortly. Could I get you a coffee while you wait?"

"No." he snapped, longing to announce that his wife's name was Sam Keogh not Major Nicholls but he had a feeling that in this place it would be futile.

"Dr Keogh," he looked up to see a man of about his own age heading towards him. "I'm Edward Garrard – duty trauma surgeon tonight would you like to step into my office."

"How is she?"

"Not bad. She stood the flight pretty well."

"Can I see her."

"Of course but I'd like a quick chat first. Come through to the office"

He followed him through to the small office. This is it Dylan thought he doesn't want me to see her until he's told me about the massive head injuries, spinal damage, traumatic amputations, blast damage to her lungs. All the hideous eventualities that had been playing themselves out in his mind ever since he'd seen Lt. Col Harris waiting at reception were all at once threatening to overwhelm him.

"Just tell me how bad it is?" Dylan demanded.

"We don't think Sam's condition is immediately life threatening. She gave everyone a scare yesterday afternoon though she almost bled out in theatre at Bastion."

"How..." he couldn't continue – he was wondering which of her limbs had been blown off and how he'd ever tell her what had happened.

"Ruptured spleen," the other man said succinctly. "Fortunately she was at least 50m away from the seat of the explosion. According to the helicopter pilot Sam was thrown backwards about 15 feet into the air then landed on her left side. She mostly has tertiary blast injuries consistent with a fall from a height. Every rib on her left side is broken – one of them pierced her lung she had a tension pneumothorax but they dealt with that in Bastion. The spleen was beyond repair so they removed it before evacuating her. There was massive blood loss of course but she's had 8 units of blood since. Then she has a closed linear skull fracture – fortunately the CT shows no signs of a bleed."

"Her spine," Dylan asked anxiously

"Her spine's intact God knows how - she's broken just about everything else on her left side. Her collarbone's gone, the shoulder's dislocated and the joint is fractured. She's broken her wrist, the left ankle will need plating and pinning, the worst injury is to her hip – the orthopods are going to do their best but it looks as if the joint might need replacing entirely."

Dylan gave a great shuddering sigh of relief. It was bad enough. It was bloody appalling but nasty and painful though her injuries were, she'd recover. Ok she might not make a 100% recovery might even limp a little which she would hate but it would be enough to move around, to carry on practicing medicine and she'd still be his Sam.

"Can I see her," he said again surprisingly loath to discuss exactly how the Orthopaedic staff planned to put his wife back together again.

"I'll take you through." Edward Garrard stood up and led him to a small single room at the far end of the corridor. "They sedated her pretty heavily for the journey so don't expect any sort of response."

Sam was lying on a trolley in the brightly lit room surrounded by a barrage of equipment. Dylan knew what it was and why it was there but he didn't like seeing it surrounding his wife. Ignoring Edward Garrard and the young nurse watching over Sam he walked straight over to the trolley to take his wife's undamaged right hand in his.

"Oh Sam, what have you done to yourself sweetheart." He hadn't called her that for months. Not since they'd had that hideous row and in the heat of the moment he'd called her ugly unkind names. He'd long wished he could take those words back but never more than he did now.

He automatically noted that her SATs and BP were ok – a bit on the low side but they'd do. They were giving her oxygen through a nasal cannula but she was breathing on her own which could only be a good thing. There was a line in her right arm supplying blood, saline and antibiotics. She had a black eye and several nasty lacerations. Garrard hadn't said anything about those he probably thought they were unimportant in the scheme of things which he supposed they were. Her skin was pallid and she was unnaturally still, that would be the drugs, later he'd have to ask them exactly what they'd used to sedate her but for now it didn't seem important.

Someone had stuffed her hair into a paper theatre hat but there were still traces of dust and dried blood on her face and smudges of the mascara she must have applied that morning were still on her cheeks. He wondered why no one had cleaned it away. Sam wouldn't be happy about it if she was with it.

"You can have five minutes" Garrard said quietly "the bone crunchers want to take her to theatre then to make a start on pinning those fractures."

He left tactfully and the nurse went with him. Dylan sat beside his wife trying to find the words to say something of what he felt.

"I left Dervla in Holby for you you know," he said at last "I wouldn't do that for just anyone. I hope you appreciate it."

He stroked her cheek gently wondering if she knew he was there and if she'd be pleased about his presence if she did. He'd stay here until she told him to go anyway.

His eyes fell on a packet of wipes on the locker and he reached for them and carefully began to swab the blood, dust and make up from her face. "That's better isn't it, I'm sorry I can't do anything about your hair but ladies hairdressing really isn't my thing. I'd make it worse – tie it into knots or something. Maybe one of the nurses will sort it out for you once they've sorted out those fractures."

It was difficult carrying on a one sided conversation with a woman who was completely unresponsive. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to Sam for this long without her coming out with a biting retort or stalking off.

"I've missed you. It's no fun at work without you to bicker with. What did you think you were doing swanning off back to Afghanistan without so much as a by your leave to blow yourself up and worry me sick." He squeezed her hand gently hoping that she'd squeeze back but there was nothing. "You're the only wife I've got. Not that I'd want more than one – you're more than enough trouble for any man."

"Dr Keogh, they need to get started on those fractures," He turned his head to see Garrard and the nursing sister in the doorway.

"Of course," he lent forward and pressed his lips softly against his wife's forehead wondering why it was that even now he couldn't find any words to tell her what she meant to him.

Dylan stood up, "look after her," he said abruptly.

He watched them wheel his wife away down the endless corridor and wondered how many hours he'd have to wait before seeing her again, or if he'd see her again.

He of all people knew the risks two general anaesthetics in 24 hours entailed. Sam was tough but she'd already had one lot of major surgery and now she was all set for another long session. Realigning all those fractures would be likely to take hours. Then there was the effect of the blast. Blast injuries especially lung damage and internal bleeding could manifest themselves hours after the initial event and there wasn't always anything anyone could do. It was entirely possible he could still lose her, all he could do was hope she was strong enough to hold on.

**There will be more but I am not sure when, the working week begins again tomorrow.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you all for your lovely reviews. I am sorry if I've seemed ungrateful by not replying but it has been one heck of a week. It's taken me the best part of a week to produce the next part but its been incredibly hectic - covering work on my own and finding myself main carer for my elderly Grandmother. I will have to try to improve my time management skills. I hope you enjoy it._

**Chapter 3**

He was still standing there staring down the empty corridor when someone touched his shoulder. He started and turned around, it was the nursing sister he'd seen earlier.

"Dr Keogh, Mr Garrard suggested we make one of our on-call rooms available to you for what's left of the night. I've ordered something for you to eat and then you should try to get to sleep."

Dylan gaped, a bed and a meal in a hospital in the early hours. This hospital was clearly far superior to Holby in its treatment of relatives. He'd have sent himself to sit on the dirty relatives' room sofa and pointed him in the direction of the coffee machine or at least the machine dispensing brown liquid pretending to be coffee.

"Thank you," he said stunned into acquiescence.

She led him to a small simply furnished room, which looked like all the other on call rooms he'd ever had the misfortune to pass a night in. One rarely slept in them after all. It was cleaner than the average on-call room in Holby maybe the Army employed a better class of cleaner. He wondered if all relations got this sort of treatment or if it was because Sam was a doctor and one of their doctors at that or because he was a doctor and thus one of them or both.

An orderly appeared with a meal. It was standard hospital fare but he'd not had to go foraging for it in the early hours. He'd also been provided with a china plate and cutlery, this was a far cry from Holby catering – the Army certainly knew how to organise things. He wasn't sure how much of the food he was going to be able to eat – he wasn't hungry but the coffee was going to be very welcome indeed.

"These came in with Major Nicholls," the Sister pointed to two plastic bags on the floor. I thought you might like to keep her things safe."

"Thank you," he said again and watched her withdraw from the room.

Ignoring the food he was sure would choke him, he investigated the two bags – the larger of the two proved to contain the clothes Sam must have been wearing that day, he wasn't entirely sure why they'd sent them back as they'd all been destroyed either by blood or when they'd cut them off her. The grey t-shirt she must have been wearing under her uniform was liberally soaked in her blood. He wasn't squeamish but the room suddenly swirled around him and fighting a wave of nausea he tipped the tomato soup they'd brought him down the sink unable to face looking at it.

Why had they sent her clothes on from Bastion instead of just transferring the whole lot to a medical waste bag without going through it. What use were these clothes to anyone. He stuffed it all back in the bag and knotted the top - he wasn't even going to ask her what she wanted him to do with them. He was going to bin it all, seeing the evidence of what had happened to her would only upset her. If she really made a fuss about it he'd replace the clothes for her. He almost stuffed the second bag in the bin without looking at it but decided he'd better at least glance through the contents.

The smalled bag was mercifully free of blood stains, when he emptied the contents out he found himself staring in bemusement at a battered heap of personal possessions. He knew Sam kept the things that would normally be in her handbag in the front pocket of her combat uniform this must have all been removed from it. There was her mobile which would clearly never function again, a small purse which if he knew Sam contained next to no cash and a collection of old bus tickets. There was a squashed lipstick – which made him smile clearly even in Helmand – vanity still won out. Her watch was even more smashed than the mobile – not surprising as she wore it on her left wrist and had probably landed on it and a pair of earrings he recognised as ones he'd given her.

He picked up the paper wallet he knew must contain photos and leafed through them. It recorded most of the happiest days of their relationship, their wedding day, camping on Dartmoor, climbing in the lakes, a hospital ball, Dervla and Sam on a beach in Guernsey, one of him and Dervla on the hills above Holby. Where had she got that from he hadn't even known photos of him and Dervla in Holby existed?

He stared at the last item curiously; he couldn't quite make out what it was. It looked as if it might once have been jewellery but it was hard to tell. He could make out a fine gold chain in several pieces with a squashed lump of metal embedded in it. It didn't look like any sort of pendant he'd ever seen and Sam didn't really go in for jewellery especially when she was working. He picked it up and examined it carefully. It looked as if it had once been some sort of hollow circle. He took a closer look and with a sudden flash of illumination he knew what it was – her wedding ring she must have been wearing it on a chain round her neck, she'd often worn it like that at work to keep it safe and out of harms way. She'd offered him a divorce ten days ago and yet she was still wearing her or rather his ring. It made no sense.

He was roused from his contemplation by the shrill ring of his mobile; he retrieved it from his coat pocket and glanced at the illuminated screen. Resignedly he took the call.

"Nick"

"I'm sorry to disturb you Dylan but we haven't heard and everyone's really anxious to know how Sam is."

"Anxious for the newest piece of gossip are they." Dylan replied angrily hating that yet again he and Sam were the number one topic on everyone's lips. Doubtless they were speculating about the state of their marriage yet again.

"No Dylan, we're all worried about her because we care," Nick said sharply. "How is she?"

"In theatre" Dylan said tersely then relenting a little "she has tertiary blast injuries"

"Hell - I'm sorry – how bad is it," this time he could hear the concern in Nick's voice.

"Multiple fractures, ruptured spleen, tension pneumothorax," Dylan catalogued the unpleasant list of injuries for Sam's erstwhile boss.

"What about head and spinal injuries?" Nick asked – there was no fooling him.

"Closed skull fracture – no bleed and as far as anyone can tell no spinal injuries." He said in a monotone. "They've sedated her pretty heavily – hard to tell the extent of the damage until she wakes up."

"Well when she does make sure you tell her we're all thinking of her... and Dylan"

"Yes"

"Stay as long as she needs you to. We'll manage. Let us know how she is."

He ended the call abruptly and spared Dylan the necessity of thanking him.

He gulped the coffee in an attempt to ease his dry mouth and forced down a couple of mouthfuls of the sandwich but the bread tasted of cardboard and the ham was the plastic variety and he couldn't face it.

Selecting the photo of Dervla and Sam on the beach – he settled back in the easy chair staring at her face to wait until the orthopods had finished the elaborate construction puzzle they were playing with his wife's fragile frame. He closed his eyes but whenever he did all he could see was her face in particular he could see her eyes on those all too frequent occasions when he had hurt her. To his shame he acknowledged that the slights hadn't always been inadvertent.

When he'd said she was only "technically" his wife that hadn't been meant to hurt her it had just slipped out under pressure but those other occasions he'd deliberately made pointed remarks – he knew her well enough to know they'd sting. He'd wanted her to hurt as much as she'd hurt him and for her to feel some of the mortification he'd felt at having his past exposed at work. He wished now he'd been kinder – she'd hurt him thoughtless and in the heat of the moment. He'd been intentionally cruel and that was worse. It was no wonder she wanted a divorce.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he sat there brooding over the past but the long winter night had faded and the sky had brightened to the dull grey of early morning when the Sister knocked on the door then entered.

"Dr Keogh, they are bringing Major Nicholls back up from theatre. You said you wanted to be there."

He stood up stiffly rubbing his eyes. "Where is she?"

"Back in room 3, Mr Garrard and Professor Thorpe are with her. I expect they'll want to talk to you."

He strode back down the corridor wanting nothing more than to see his wife. Sam was in the same position she'd been in before except that this time they didn't have her lying flat, they'd propped her up against a pile of pillows and a quick glance at the monitor told him her respiratory rate was on the high side and her SATs weren't great.

"Dr Keogh, this is Professor Thorpe – orthopaedics clinical lead," Garrard said as he entered the room."

"How is she," he said willing them to tell him it was all fine even though all the evidence in front of him said that it wasn't."

"The surgery itself went very well," the Professor, said carefully "We managed good alignment of the wrist and ankle, relocated her shoulder and were able to rebuild her hip successfully."

"But..." Dylan said knowing there was a but.

"She's slightly breathless, it's probably nothing to worry about – and just a result of the pneumothorax or she might have inhaled a little dust. There aren't any signs of infection on bloods or x-ray."

"What are you doing about it," he asked hoping they were treating her they way he would and he wouldn't have to intervene.

"Antibiotic cover just to be on the safe side, steroids to reduce any inflammation and a little of oxygen to give her a bit of help. If we're at all worried our Chest consultant will come and see her. If there is any infection we're already onto it."

Dylan nodded, he couldn't really find any words he wondered why he wasn't quibbling over their drug choice or suggesting alternatives. He just wanted her to be all right – nothing else mattered. He wondered if relatives always felt like that.

"I don't think its anything much to worry about" Garrard said reassuringly "you know how common it is to need a bit of oxygen after surgery. We hope she'll start waking up again soon; the sedation's already beginning to wear off. Ring the bell for Sister if you want anything."

When they'd gone, remembering his promise to Nick he drew out his phone and sent a quick text message "Sam out of theatre and stable, surgery successful." That told Nick about as much as he knew himself.

Dylan tugged the big chair as close to Sam's bed as he could get it and sat down taking her hand in his to wait for her to show any signs of waking up. Just before eleven he was woken by a firmer grip on his hand and he found her shifting restlessly on the narrow bed. He leaned forward to ensure that he was looking straight at her.

"Come on Sam – time to wake up." He said firmly "you've had a good long sleep. Come on."

She seemed to be struggling to surface from whatever drug hazed sleep she'd been in. He tried again "Come on Sam sweetheart wake up now."

She made a huge effort and then groggily opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Dylan. Nice," she sounded faintly bemused.

He gave her his usual half smile, "Decided to join us then." He struggled to conceal the surge of relief that came out of nowhere. She had recognised him and spoken coherently he could stop worrying about head injuries.

"I've got a hell of a headache," she murmured, "Have I had too much to drink?"

"Not this time, you've given your head a bit of a bump." It was an understatement but it would do for now.

"Oh," her eyes fluttered shut again and he nearly smiled in sheer relief. She'd come round on her own and she was alert – ok he hadn't asked anything to check if she was orientated but later would do.

The long sleepless night began to catch up with him and he dozed off in the chair still clutching her hand tightly in his.

Sam opened her eye again a while later and was aware that wherever she was – she wasn't in Afghanistan anymore. The light wasn't bright enough. This was like a dull winter afternoon in England – In Helmand it was light or it was dark there was nothing in between.

She looked around trying to place exactly where she was. This was clearly a hospital and she was a patient. She was attached to an IV stand and they were monitoring her vital signs – which could be better. It wasn't a hospital; she recognised she didn't think she'd worked here. Turning her head to the side she recognised Dylan slumped asleep in an armchair. She' always been aware somehow that he was there. She always did know if he was in a room with her and the faint pressure on her hand was reassuring. She had no idea what he was doing there or why he was there but she couldn't help being glad that he was.

He must have been up all night, he looked absolutely shattered, maybe he'd come straight from a nightshift. It couldn't be comfortable sleeping with his neck at that angle. She wondered what she'd done to herself it must have been bad if they'd flown her out of Afghanistan and brought Dylan to her.

Flashes of memory were coming back now. Dylan hadn't wanted her anymore, she's offered him a divorce – he'd not come to the station to say goodbye. The tears were welling up in her eyes gain and they stung as they leaked into the abrasions on her face. She'd gone back to Afghanistan to get away. There'd been a helicopter – a blinding flash of light an ear-splitting bang and then darkness. She'd never removed him as her next of kin as far as she was concerned he'd always be that but she'd never been sure he'd actually show up if it came to it.

Suddenly feeling stiff she made as if to stretch her cramped heavy limbs and pain such as she'd never experienced before shot through her and she screamed. Dylan jerked awake at once and saw in an instant what had happened.

"Stay still Samantha" he said peremptorily recognising she was about to panic and if she started panicking and thrashing around the bed it would be agonising.

She obeyed, moving hurt far too much to attempt it again.

"Hurts," she whispered tearfully.

"I know it does," he soothed "I'll get one of the nurses to bring you something to take the edge of it. He wasn't going to make any promises about stopping it hurting. He knew his wife had many weeks of pain to endure and there was going to be very little he could do to help her. He pushed the call button to summon a nurse and hoped they'd have more to offer than paracetamol.

A new nursing sister had come on duty since the morning. This one was tall thin and looked hideously efficient. "What's the fuss about Major Nicholls" she said briskly "I could hear you at the other end of the ward."

"Hurts," Sam managed to say, her eyes still full of tears.

"I'm sure it does," the Sister said in a matter of fact way. "Do try to keep still. Moving will only make it worse. Mr Garrad wrote you up for morphine I'll get it for you."

She bustled off and came back in under a minute with a syringe which she emptied into the IV line.

"Can't Sam have a PCA," Dylan asked wondering why they hadn't fitted one before bringing her back from theatre. "I thought they were normally used post operatively."

"You'll have to talk to Mr Garrard about that," the nurse said dismissively

"I will do," Dylan said calmly. He really didn't like this nurse, she was efficient enough but she didn't seem to care at all. The one last night had been far more sympathetic.

"If that's all I have work to do." The nurse said and she whisked out.

"Feeling better," he queried hoping the morphine was beginning to do its work.

"I suppose so, what have I done?" Sam asked him almost afraid to hear the answer.

"You went and blew yourself up just like I always said you would, you reckless fool." Dylan told her the harshness of his words softened by his tone and the gentle caress he bestowed on her cheek. "You certainly know how to make me sweat."

"I … How bad is it?"

"Bad enough but it could be much worse," Dylan told her deciding she needed to know the worst and hoping it would be the last time he had to reiterate the list of her injuries. "You ruptured your spleen and acquired a closed skull fracture, broken your collarbone, you've a fracture dislocation of your shoulder, gave yourself a flail chest and a tension pneumothorax, your wrist is broken, your ankle is shattered and you've smashed your hip.

"That would be why I hurt then,"

"I should say so. You've given me one hell of a night. I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm sorry," she murmured faintly "I didn't mean to worry you."

"Are you sure about that? I thought that was exactly what you intended to do when you took yourself off back to Helmand."

"No just to go away and leave you in peace. Helmand was as far away as I could think of."

"What was wrong with the Falklands woman, it's almost twice as far and ten times safer."


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you once again to all the nice people who have commented. I am afraid poor Sam still has to suffer. This part has gone up faster than anticipated as I had an asthma attack in the early morning. This meant I had to rest rather than commute to work but of course writing is a nice gentle restful occupation. I hope you enjoy._

**Chapter 4**

"I should have thought of the Falkland Islands, so much more temperate. Sheep too you'd like that" Sam giggled faintly then cried out as pain speared through her again.

"Take it easy," Dylan warned her "those fractures are going to give you hell for a while."

"Going to," she murmured faintly "they already are."

"I know, and I hate not being able to do anything to make it better for you," he said sadly taking her hand again.

"You haven't got a magic wand Dylan." She squeezed his hand gently "and I'm not expecting you to work a miracle."

"I ought to be able to make you better, it's my job." he repeated stubbornly

"Don't be silly. This is my fault not yours. You always said I'd hurt myself." she responded "should have thought you'd be saying I told you so."

"Hardly, there's no satisfaction in watching you suffer and not being able to do anything about it." he said miserably

"You're a big soft sod really aren't you?" Sam smiled at him "Don't worry Grumpy I won't tell anyone?"

"You'd better not." he retorted "I don't want anyone getting ideas."

"You are helping me you know." she said quietly "You're here with me aren't you?"

"That's nothing." Dylan replied

"It is to me," she insisted "There's no one else I want."

"Not even your Mother?" he asked

"Definitely not her." Sam said without bothering to conceal her disgust. "You haven't told her have you?"

"Not yet. I wanted to check with you first." he said awkwardly

"Well don't. I don't want her anywhere near me," Sam was resolute.

"If you're sure?" he persisted. He hadn't really thought Sam would want her mother, she'd refused point blank to invite her to their wedding so he hadn't contacted her when he'd first heard Sam had had an accident but he'd felt he should ask.

"I'm bloody certain." Sam was adamant "She wouldn't want to waste the airfare coming to see me anyway she doesn't like being forced to admit she has a daughter as old as me."

Dylan subsided, he knew Sam and her Mother didn't get on – he'd only met her once after they married and the woman had made his skin crawl. She was thick, vulgar, ladled make up on with a trowel and dressed like a 17 year old. She'd also tried to flirt with him, spent the entire day making insinuations about Sam and trying to put her down. He'd found the entire experience agonizing and Sam had been almost in tears of mortification.

He'd found it completely incomprehensible how someone bright, funny and sweet like his wife could have had such an appalling mother. Not that the woman deserved to be called her mother. Sam's father had died years before when she was a very small child and when she was fifteen her mother had married again (a man Dylan was certain was living on the Costa del Crime because he'd made Britain too hot to hold him.) and moved to Malaga. Sam had insisted on staying in England to finish her exams and try for medical school. As far as he knew she'd only seen her mother two or three times since.

"Just us then," he said.

"Just us," she agreed "how long can you stay."

"As long as you need me to," he told her firmly

"Nick won't like that at all," she remarked

"Nick can do the other thing. You are far more important than Holby ED." Dylan assured her and he meant it. If it came to it he'd tell Nick Jordan where he could stick his job there'd be others after all.

He stayed with her for the whole of the first week only leaving her when he was evicted from the room, either by the nursing staff or by Sam herself. There had come a point somewhere on the third day when she had bluntly told him that he smelt worse than Dervla did after she'd rolled in a dead sheep and it was time he had a hot shower, changed his clothes and shaved. He'd grumbled about ingratitude but done as she asked returning looking rather more like a respectable consultant doctor and less like a vagrant.

Sam was just grateful he was there, as long as Dylan was with her she felt safe. He was her link with the medical staff and she could safely leave everything to him. After the excruciating episode on the first day, he'd insisted that they give her patient controlled analgesia so there had not been a repeat of the incident when she'd been writhing in pain waiting for someone to bring her some pain relief. Mostly it had not been as painful as it could have been. It hurt of course it hurt there was no way fractures were not going to hurt but they'd done their best to control the pain as much as possible and there were only a few occasions where it had been unbearable.

They'd got her up as quickly as they could to begin some physio and that did hurt. Being forced to move the damaged limbs and get them to function properly was not at the top of her list of things she wanted to do. She'd known what crepitus sounded like and now she knew what it felt like too and frankly she wished that she didn't. The sound of bones rubbing together was far worse when it was your own bones making the noise. She was going to be so much more sympathetic towards patients with fractures in future.

Eventually though Dylan had had to go back to work. The others had been covering for him but both Zoe and Nick needed some time off and they were still one short because they hadn't found a replacement for her. It wasn't as if he could claim she needed him with her all the time anymore. She wasn't in any danger – never really had been after the first day. She was just bored, sore and miserable and neither of them could justify him leaving the others in the lurch any longer. So she'd smiled and assured him that of course he must go back to work and she would be fine on her own when in truth she didn't want to be left alone in that empty hospital room with her thoughts.

Whenever she was alone Sam found herself filled with a nameless and unidentifiable sense of dread. It was stupid she didn't have anything to be frightened of here. She was safe and well cared for in a nice safe British hospital and she was going to get better. It was ridiculous to be so nervy all the time but she couldn't help herself. She was on edge whenever Dylan wasn't with her and he couldn't be with her all the time anymore much as she wanted him to be.

He still came up and saw her everyday spending hours on the road to be with her before or after every shift and she knew that the hospital staff were breaking all the rules on visiting so he could slip into see her whenever he wasn't working. She wasn't entirely sure why he came so regularly. He said he was worried about her but he hadn't said anything about wanting to try again and he hadn't said anything about loving her either. Not that she could remember him ever saying that he loved her. They'd never gone in for flowery words. He was far more likely to stroke her hair or caress her back than say anything at all.

The worst thing was the lack of anything constructive to do with her time and there was plenty of it. She didn't think she'd ever had quite so much spare time. There was nothing to do except lie in bed, fret about her own weakness, think about past mistakes and brood over a past she could do nothing to change. She slept very little haunted by dreams of previous tours and that last appalling row she and Dylan had when their marriage had imploded. That damned row seemed to replay over and over again every time she had nightmares. She'd give anything in the world to be able to make it stop or to be able to end it differently.

Yet oddly enough she could remember nothing at all of what had led up to her injuries aside from the odd glimmer at the corner of her mind. Maybe it was nature's way of protecting her from the horror of whatever she had experienced that day but she couldn't recall anything of substance. She could remember getting in the chopper and running towards the incident. Sometimes when she closed her eyes she could see that last blinding flash and then there was nothing.

Maybe if she could remember what had happened it would have had a less devastating effect on her. She often wondered if it was the unknown that frightened her so much because the accident hadn't just broken her body it had destroyed her nerves and shattered her confidence. She'd rarely been scared before – she had always been supremely confident that she would be all right, everything would be fine and nothing would ever actually happen to her but now something had happened and she'd been forced to face up to her own vulnerability and she didn't like it at all.

She hated herself for her weakness – what she should do was send Dylan away, tell him not to come but she couldn't do it. She needed to see him, spent all day waiting for him to arrive and keep her company. She wondered why he hadn't told the medical staff they were separated instead of playing the devoted husband showing up every day to see her. Why was he keeping this charade going when he'd refused to even acknowledge her in Holby until he had to? It really didn't make any sense. If she had any courage she'd ask him about him but she was frightened of hearing the answers and afraid of disrupting the current relatively civilised status quo. She'd talk to him later when she felt braver and able to cope with it.

She was desultorily listening to the radio one evening waiting for Dylan and listening to the rain smash against the windows. She hoped he was driving carefully she worried about all those miles he was doing on the motorway. The half past eight news came on and she realised that he was late and as the minutes ticked by she began to be afraid he wasn't coming.

She couldn't blame him if he'd given up on her or got fed up of the 180 mile round drive after an exhausting day. She could hardly blame him it wasn't as if she deserved his thoughtfulness. He'd probably decided he was tired and wanted to go straight home to Dervla and give visiting her a miss today. She should prepare herself to accept that he wasn't going to come – she couldn't expect him to come every day after all.

She was still lying there wondering if Dylan would show up when radio traffic news began informing listeners that there had been a multiple pile up on the M5 in fog. They went on to talk about the retrieval team who'd gone out to the scene from A&E and that there were many deaths and serious injuries. Sam was instantly flooded with terror – maybe that was why Dylan was late he had come to see her and he'd been involved in the accident.

She'd been nervous about him driving up to see her when he was tired - so worried that he'd have a dreadful accident and now he had. What if he'd been hurt of worse killed? It would be so easy for him to lose concentration for just a second and have an accident, he must be exhausted spending all those hours in the car every day and all because she'd been too selfish to tell him not to exhaust himself coming to see her every day.

She shuddered, torturing herself with her own all too vivid imagination, unable to push away the thoughts of Dylan pinned under several tons of twisted metal. She could almost smell the petrol that would be liberally covering the area and the acrid burning smell from tyres and brakes; feel the heat from the emergency lighting and heavy plant equipment they'd be using. She tried to catalogue the kind of injuries he'd be likely to have sustained but without knowing the circumstances it was almost impossible to know for certain what could have happened to him.

What would she do if anything happened to him? She could just about live without him if he was alive and happy but she wasn't at all sure she could bear a world without him in it at all. He was probably dead – it was all her fault! What would she do if she lost him? She let out a low wail and then giving up all attempts at self control turned her face into the pillow and wept uncontrollably. Sobs racked her body and she was oblivious to the physical pain the movement caused all that mattered was the terror that was threatening to overwhelm her.

Dylan arrived in the hospital just after 10:30 – he'd spent nearly three hours on the road, he was tired, cross, hungry and well aware that he'd been delayed so long he could only stay half an hour with his wife then he'd have to turn round and head back again. Even so, it would be nearly 1am before he got to bed and he'd have to be at work again by 8. If he was sensible he'd have turned round and gone home when he'd realised he was going to be stuck on the M5 most of the evening but he hadn't wanted to let Sam down so he'd sat in the queue of traffic and fumed.

He was striding down the corridor towards her room when the nice nursing sister what was her name Sister Barnes maybe appeared.

"Dr Keogh can I have a quick word?" she said drawing him in to an alcove

"Ok," he said in surprise. He didn't normally talk to the nursing staff much, he came in spent as much time as he could with Sam and left again.

"Sam's not had a good evening," she said quickly "She won't explain why but she's been very distressed – practically hysterical in fact."

"Sam!" he said in surprise "Sam doesn't have hysterics, she's one of the calmest people I know."

"Not this evening she's not, she's worked herself up into a terrible state and she's making herself ill. It's strange she seemed fine until about half past nine and then I went in to see how she was and found her distraught and sobbing. She won't tell me or Mr Garrard what the problem is, just cries. Could you see if you could calm her down? The last thing anyone wants to have to do is give her tranquillisers but we may have no choice. She can't carry on like this"

"I'll talk to her," he said anxiously. He hurried off to find her wondering what had caused Sam of all people to have a meltdown. She really didn't do emotional scenes. He found her huddled in the bed still shaking with the violence of her outburst.

"Sam – what on earth's the matter with you," he asked in horror "Does it hurt that much."

She turned a tearstained swollen face to look at him "Dylan, Thank God! I thought you were dead," she hiccupped.

"You thought I was dead! Whatever gave you that idea?" he looked at her incredulously

"You were late and I thought perhaps you weren't coming, that you'd had enough of me and then I heard about the crash on the M5 on the radio. They said there were people dead and I thought you'd been killed." She choked

"You daft woman, don't you think someone would have told you? I was two cars behind. I stopped to help and I was held up for hours but no one was killed, couple of nasty injuries nothing life threatening."

"I thought it was you. I was so frightened. What if it had been you? What would I have done?"

"You won't have to do anything because it didn't happen. I didn't crash the car and I'm not hurt. Don't cry anymore please. You'll make yourself ill." Dylan pleaded with her.

He'd never been very good at dealing with tears. He hated it on the very rare occasions when she cried it made him feel so useless. He gave up trying to reason with her, sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her into his arms, deciding it was far more important to hold her close than worry about hurting her. He had a suspicion she'd barely even notice her aching bones this evening. Sam buried her face in his shoulder and continued to sob into his shirt. In the end he shifted himself on the bed so he could hold her as best he could – to hell with all those stupid hospital rules about patients sitting on beds and held her tight. The medical staff tactfully stayed well out of the way. They were probably about as keen on dealing with patients in tears as he was.

Slowly her sobs began to subside and her breathing became slower and more even. He carried on stroking her hair while murmuring soothing nonsense and eventually he realised that Sam had cried herself into an exhausted sleep against his chest. Making himself as comfortable as possible he stretched out as best he could on the hard narrow bed, snuggled her against him, tugged a blanket over the pair of them and prepared to catch what sleep he could. He'd need to be up early if he was ever going to get to work on time but he couldn't leave her now, he wasn't sure how he was ever going to leave her again.


	6. Chapter 6

_As always thank you all so much for the reviews, feedback does motivate me to keep going, write more and sometimes even produce the words faster. I hope that you enjoy it. You never know I may be lucky enough to get some snow days then there will be more writing._

**Chapter 5**

Sam was awake relatively early next day or at least before it was light; although as it didn't get light until well after seven at the moment that didn't necessarily mean very much. She could hear the nursing staff moving around in the corridors and cars moving outside in the car park. The hospital was clearly well and truly awake and she wondered how long it would be before someone appeared to disturb her. Sooner or later her breakfast would appear and someone would suggest it was time she got up and faced the day but hopefully not just yet.

She felt better than she had since she'd arrived here. Her bones hurt less and she actually felt quite well rested. If it wasn't for the fact that her eyes were sore and her face felt stiff she'd have said she was feeling much better. She tried to remember what she'd done the previous evening and then the mortifying recollection returned to her. She had had full on hysterics complete with floods of tears and noisy sobs. She'd clung to poor Dylan like an emotional wreck. What must he have thought of her? She didn't normally behave irrationally like that. It was sweet of him to calm her down and not walk out in disgust but then of course he could be incredibly sweet when he wanted to be. She'd known that for years.

The strange thing was that after working herself up into a state of panic she'd slept straight through the night for the first time since the accident. Actually it had been longer than that since she'd slept well. Inevitably she'd been restless in Afghanistan and if she was honest her sleep had been disturbed since before Christmas. The ED fire had dragged up too many experiences she'd prefer to have left buried and although she could push them away during the day they were ever present when she was alone and wakeful.

Those seemingly endless hours when she had thought she was about to be widowed at 26 and with no opportunity to tell him that she was sorry and that she still loved him had left a scar. More than once she had woken trembling and weeping from dreams in which Dylan had burned to death. Those burns she's seen on the junkie she'd treated and Frank would somehow transpose themselves onto Dylan and she'd find herself awake shaking and feeling sick. The stupid thing was that even afterwards when she could have said something she hadn't or rather couldn't. His reaction when she'd said she'd thought she'd lost him had put her off any more confidences. She couldn't face the hurt of being rejected again.

Despite the fresh embarrassment, Sam was surprisingly comfortable and more relaxed than she'd been in a long time. She shifted cautiously not wanting to set off the relentless toothache in her left side and found that she was held firmly against something warm and solid. With a sudden surge of delight she realised that Dylan had stayed with her and for the first time in well over a year she'd woken up in her husbands arms. That accounted for the calm contentment and the lack of restless dreams.

Dylan was still sound asleep, she could hear the soft even murmur of his breathing and the slight snuffling sounds he always flatly denied that he made while he was asleep. Sam snuggled down again resting her head in its familiar place against his chest listening to the steady thump of his heart under her ear. She'd missed this so much; it had been so long since she'd felt safe and cherished in her husband's arms. She didn't even want to go back to sleep and miss what might be the last time he held her close. She'd never expected to have the opportunity again and she was grateful for it.

If she'd known it would be almost two years before her held her again when she'd left their home for the last time, she wondered if she would actually have managed to bring herself to leave at all. She hadn't intended to walk away – she'd always planned to go back but instead of absence making the heart grow fonder, her absence had sabotaged her marriage.

She'd never forgive herself for what she'd done. One rash moment of madness and the course of both their lives had been altered in an instant. It didn't help knowing that the fault was hers and hers alone. She couldn't blame Dylan for being unable to forgive her for her betrayal, she couldn't forgive herself. That particular aberration would be something she'd regret until the end of her days.

The familiar feeling of self-loathing spread through her and her fragile happiness evaporated. She wasn't worthy to lie here in the comfort of her husband's embrace and he didn't deserve to have to put up with her. Careful not to disturb him she eased herself out of his grasp and sat up. He was exhausted from running around after her, she'd leave him to have his much needed sleep out in peace without the encumbrance of her presence.

She'd been learning to be more independent in the last few days and she could now get from the bed to a wheelchair without any help and dress herself. She wheeled herself carefully to the bathroom and gazed at her appearance in horror. Her face was still swollen and stiff and her eyes were pink. Sam was far from vain and wasted as little time as possible on her appearance but she did like to look presentable. She soaked a face cloth in icy water and applied it to her eyes and nose. If nothing else she would look well groomed when Dylan woke up she had her pride.

The room was full of bright sunlight when Dylan finally did surface and it took him a while to work out where he was but eventually he realised he was in Sam's hospital room. She was sitting in a large chair with her feet up and he was sprawled on her bed. She looked considerably better than she had the previous night. There was still a faint trace of tears around her eyes and nose - it took a while to erase the signs of tears but she'd obviously got one of the nurses to help her to get ready. She was wearing a comfortable tracksuit and her hair was well brushed and held off her face in a loose plait. She looked more like his Sam and less like a bedraggled wreck this morning. It was a distinct improvement.

"Hi Sam," he murmured his voice faint from lack of use.

"Morning, dozy, did you sleep well," she asked cheerfully.

"Actually yes," Dylan considered asking her if she was feeling better then decided against it – she sounded much better and tears were pretty foreign to Sam, she was probably regretting last night's collapse and would probably prefer it if he didn't allude to the events of the previous evening. In fact she'd probably be happiest if he drew a discreet veil over it and pretended that it had never happened at all. "What time is it?"

"Just after half nine," she told him seemingly indifferent that he'd slept half the morning away.

"Hell, I should have started my shift an hour and a half ago." Dylan replied horrified. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you were shattered and needed to sleep, so I took your mobile rang Nick and told him you were worn out and wouldn't be in today," she said calmly

"I bet he took that well," Dylan groaned.

"He was very nice about it." Sam informed him "Said it was about time you had a rest you'd been overdoing it. You shouldn't worry because him and Zoe could manage and it was about time Lenny and Tom pulled their weight a bit."

"Lenny will never manage to pull his weight," Dylan said in disbelief.

"Give him a chance," Sam retorted "None of you ever give him an opportunity to show what he can do – you're all of you too busy trying to make him look small."

"That's not how it..." he stammered discomfited.

"It is." Sam told him "and you'll see it if you think about it for five minutes. You knew what I could do and let me get on with it. Then because you had faith in me the others did too. Lenny didn't have that opportunity. He doesn't get any teaching at all."

There was an uncomfortable silence while Dylan digested what she had to say. Then he changed the subject not wanting to disagree with her and if he was honest not feeling inclined to discuss Lenny.

"I forgot, Tom was worried you aren't getting adequate nutrition in here – he's sent you some nutritious snacks. I left them in the car" Dylan explained, "Please don't shoot the messenger."

Sam eyed him suspiciously. It would be a very long time before she recovered from Tom's home baked courgette muffins. He'd brought them into work to share one day and she'd taken a large unguarded bite when he'd handed them around in the staffroom. The shock of finding vegetables in her mouth when she was expecting something sweet and tasty had been acute.

"I think he said they were oat and sunflower seed bars with agave nectar (whatever the hell that is) and Goji berries whatever they are" Dylan said with a straight face.

"What are they when there at home? Has he got an account with Holland and Barratt or something," Sam said in disbelief "You know normal people send grapes or boxes of chocolates to people in hospital."

"Jeff did suggest you'd probably prefer a Sausage sarnie," Dylan grinned at her

"And he'd be right. Do you think Dervla would like those seed things," Sam asked hopefully.

"No she wouldn't. She's a dog not a parrot," he said in disgust "anyway I'd have to pay for a vet if you poison my poor dog. Eat them yourself."

"So it's ok for your wife to be poisoned but not your dog?" Sam said indignantly

"I'd rather you weren't either, you'd make so much fuss!" Dylan observed.

"And you wouldn't. How much fuss did you make last time you had a sniffle," she declared carrying war into the enemies' country. "I've broken half my bones and I'm making less fuss than you did then."

"Not quite half your bones Samantha. The human body has about 208 bones you've only broken about 19 of them. Obviously that's still verging on the greedy but you've broken less than a tenth of them don't exaggerate." Dylan said aggravatingly

"You might be brilliant but you are still an infuriating nit-picker." she said heatedly

"I can't help being right. Speaking of bones, you could do with a bit of feeding up. You could double as a skeleton soon,"

As soon as he'd said it Dylan wondered if he might have made a mistake. He'd never been good at heeding the danger signals in conversations but he had a vague inkling that those discussions which involved a mere male daring to pass comment on a woman and her weight rarely ended well. She was probably going to overreact to a simple little observation. It was like venturing to suggest that a woman was perhaps being a trifle irrational because she was being influenced by her hormones. He looked about surreptitiously for a swift escape route.

"Where is Dervla?" Sam asked hastily deciding to rescue them both from what looked like becoming a dispute. She had no intention of discussing what she was or was not eating with anyone even if she was married to them and as for the figure on the scales no one got to know that ever!

"Big Mac's looking after her. She's not usually welcome in most well ordered or indeed disordered hospitals. So I asked him to see about feeding her and making sure that she's walked." Dylan seized on the change of subject with relief.

"Poor Dervla she probably thinks you've abandoned her." Sam said sympathetically

"No she doesn't, I explained it to her very carefully that you've had an accident and I had to go and look after you" Dylan said as if it was obvious.

She laughed then winced as the slight movement sent pain shooting through her again.

"You are the only person I know who talks to a dog as if they're a person."

"She's a lot saner than most people," he stated with conviction.

"You're not wrong there." she agreed. "I wish you'd brought her with you. I miss her. Couldn't you try and smuggle her in."

"You'll get us both kicked out," Dylan assured her "That night nurse of yours is a good sort (Tess could learn a thing or two from her), she's ignored midnight visits, overnight stays, turned a blind eye to the smuggling in of pizza and curry but I think even she would draw the line at a large dog."

"Maybe," Sam didn't sound convinced "You know she lets the squaddies smuggle in beer and fags. I don't think she's too fussed about our very minor smuggling attempts."

"Really,"

"Of course, smuggling is fair game if you're a squaddie. They used to try to get all sorts past me. On one unforgettable occasion in a Khandahar convalescent ward they tried to sneak a lady of easy virtue past me."

"What did you do?" Dylan asked her curiously.

"Well I couldn't let it pass – it was a security breach and she might have blown us all sky high. So I got the guards to escort her out again and reminded the men just what they might catch from her. I don't think they were very impressed with me." Sam said ruefully "They viewed me as rather a spoilsport for the rest of their stay and none of them believed she might have carried anything antisocial because she was so beautiful."

"I hadn't realised attractiveness came with immunity to HIV. Clearly the research programme has missed a trick," her husband said acerbically

"It's more usually Syphilis in Afghanistan." Sam told him "You see plenty of almost obsolete nasty diseases in rural clinics you only see in textbooks in the West. I've seen Rabies, Lassa Fever, Leprosy even Plague but the worst was watching little children die from things they'd have survived in the West and women much younger than me dying in childbirth."

"No wonder nothing in Holby ever fazed you," he said thoughtfully.

"There was the odd thing," she said quietly thinking about some of those incidents in safe suburban Holby that would stay with her forever. She changed the subject quickly she didn't want to discuss any of the events that had thrown her off balance with her husband. "I'm sick of hospital. How long do you think before I can break out of here even if it's only for a day."

"I've no idea you'll have to ask Garrard," Dylan replied eying her with suspicion. He didn't know what she wasn't telling him but he knew her well enough to know that she was keeping something back. The morning's conversation had been like tiptoeing across a minefield. There were more risky topics to avoid than subjects Sam was willing to discuss today.

"Ask Garrard what?" the trauma surgeon appeared in the room

"When I can escape from this place," Sam asked optimistically "I don't like hospitals."

"I'd have thought that was rather unfortunate seeing as you work in one but I was coming to talk to you about that."

"Oh," Sam looked hopefully at him "Can I go?"

"Not just yet, we're all very pleased with your progress but you know as well as I do you have rather more inpatient physio to go before before we let you go. If everything goes well you might be able to leave hospital in say 10-14 days. The thing is we were wondering how you'd feel about finishing your treatment in Holby?"

"Holby?" Sam echoed bemused.

"Yes, it's like this. You still need plenty of physio but its standard stuff – you don't need any particularly special treatment. We wouldn't ask but we're full and there's two soldiers who have been at Hedley Court who we really should bring back in for further surgery and expert rehabilitation."

"Hang on a minute – the Army did this to Sam, you'd better not be planning to discharge her until she's ready."

"Dylan," she said warningly "let him finish."

"Not at all Dr Keogh, we wouldn't dream of shortchanging Major Nicholls." Mr Garrard went on smoothly "We've spoken to the Clinical Director at Holby – Griffin isn't it? Under the circumstances he is happy to give you a room on the Private Wing and arrange for you to have physio there. It would be much easier for Dr Keogh – no more 180 mile round trips and I know you're bored this would mean you'd be near your friends."

"I hadn't thought I could go back to Holby..." Sam said thoughtfully "I'm not…"

"It's not usual but because you were staff and Dr Keogh still is they've guaranteed that the standard of care they will provide will be as good or better than you'd get here. To be on the safe side, one of our staff will come down every week to make sure Holby is living up to its side of the bargain." Mr Garrard said triumphantly

"In that case. Thank you," Dylan said formally "It would be nice to have Sam nearer home."

For a moment she considered asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. That sounded awfully as if he was making the decision for her and he might still be her husband but she made her own decisions and it would do him good to remember it - then she thought better of it. Garrard had effectively presented her with a fait accompli and she could either accept it with a good grace or look unappreciative.

"Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you," Sam said formally, still slightly stunned by the sudden change in her fortunes again. She'd gone to all that effort to get away from Holby and less than a month later she wasn't just going back in the city she was going to be a patient in the same damned hospital. Why had she even bothered?

"I'll sort out a transfer for you. We might be able to get the ball rolling for tomorrow if we're lucky." Garrard bounced out of the room like a pleased Labrador puppy.

"It looks like it won't be just us for much longer," Sam said. "That lot will be up the stairs every five minutes. I'm not going to get a moments peace once I'm back there."

"I'll make sure they don't bother you too much. They've all got jobs to do and I intend to make sure that they do them." Dylan replied fiercely.

"How do you propose to stop them Dylan, stand guard outside my door?" Sam asked him trying to conceal her amusement at the thought of him attempting to refuse her former colleagues entry to her room.

"If I have to, I won't have you worried." He said resolutely

"I'll be fine" she asserted hoping she would be.

Mr Garrard appeared an hour later looking very pleased with himself indeed. He had managed to expedite an ambulance transfer to Holby for the following morning and beaming with pleasure told Sam that she would be going home. She didn't have the heart to tell him Holby was not and never had been her home. Nine months alone in a grotty rented flat did not make a place home.

She didn't want to go back to Holby, she never wanted to set foot in the damned city but what choice did she have. She couldn't refuse not when there were soldiers who desperately needed her bed and it would make Dylan's life so much easier. She didn't want him making that endurance test of a drive every single day and now he wouldn't have to. There was no way she could be selfish enough to object to going back. She'd have to grit her teeth and get on with it. She'd been in far worse places.


	7. Chapter 7

_As always many thanks to all the lovely people who have reviewed or offered useful/ constructive comments. I do value everyone who takes the time to say something. This chapter grew and grew and grew I hope it doesn't feel too long when you read it._

**Chapter 7**

She convinced Dylan to leave the hospital before it got dark, she liked having him there with her but it got foggier as the afternoon drew in and she hated the thought of him driving in the murky darkness. Preferring to be alone with her thoughts – disquieting though they could be and know he was safe. If the truth were told she knew Dylan had only left when he did to humour her. He thought she was making a fuss about nothing but didn't want her upsetting herself all over again if it could be avoided. He couldn't quite manage to conceal that he was treading on egg shells around her.

Sam endured an extra and very painful session of physio late that afternoon – the team were determined that she was going to be back on her feet and walking with crutches by the end of the week and they were making her drag herself along parallel bars, practice moving with a walking frame and generally pushing her slightly further than she really felt inclined to go. She knew physio always hurt it was the nature of the treatment – if it didn't hurt you weren't working hard enough but she would be glad when it was over. It hurt like hell and she clearly didn't get the sense of achievement the physiotherapists thought she should.

She found all the praise, encouragement and enthusiasm patronising. There was nothing great about managing to walk 25m holding on to two bars when you were accustomed to being able to run miles at a time cross country. It was just frustrating and undignified. She refused point blank to have anyone who wasn't strictly necessary at her physio sessions, Dylan had never been welcome there she was damned if she was going to let him or anybody else see her fall over or cry with frustration and pain unless she had to.

By the time it was all over she yearned for a stiff scotch but Dylan who would smuggle most things in for her point blank refused to sneak her in any alcohol. It wasn't surprising – she was still taking opiates and they both knew alcohol and opiates are not the healthiest combination albeit a fairly effective one as far as pain relief was concerned. She knew why he was so opposed to drinking and for the most part she usually deferred to his wishes and didn't drink when he was around. It wasn't usually a problem she could go months without an alcoholic drink on a tour of active duty and not miss it but she was sure a good shot of Scotch would ease the dull ache in her injured side.

That was one good thing about returning to Holby; Linda, Lenny or even Zoe would be bound to respond to her pleas and find her a decent Malt for medicinal purposes. She'd ask them tomorrow. Even Mr Jordan might oblige, she was sure Tom would be the only dissenter. Doubtless he'd go all po-faced and lecture her about opiates and alcohol, alcohol dependence and liver function. It was strange there were lots of reasons why she should like Tom but he was just too sanctimonious and virtuous to be true.

After two strong painkillers and an espresso she managed to rouse herself enough to begin packing her meagre possessions. Eventually her backpack and holdall had made their way to her in the hospital from Afghanistan which had meant she at least had clean clothes, her own towel and preferred brand of shower gel, Dylan had bought her pyjamas but he was hopeless and they were two sizes too big, he also always purchased value toiletries on principle. That could be another advantage to Holby, Zoe or Linda would be bound to understand that actually hair as long as hers did not wash well with Tesco Value shampoo.

It was the work of five minutes to stuff most of her things into the holdall – she didn't own very much and she'd put most of her possessions in store before leaving the country. She binned the pile of magazines she'd already read and picked up the small pile of personal possessions that had appeared on the top of the locker when she'd come round in here. Her photos still stuffed haphazardly into the paper wallet were placed carefully in her backpack with her purse which now held a crisp £20 note.

Dylan had been appalled that she only had £2.77 and an old bus ticket to her name and had insisted on giing her some cash at once. She was stubbornly refusing to spend his money on a point of pride even though she knew she was being silly as she could pay him back as soon as she got near a hole in the wall. He'd told her that her phone was damaged beyond repair – she'd need to sort out the insurance and get a new one. If she'd sorted that out before she would have avoided yesterday's agonizing wait because she could have just phoned Dylan but thus far she hadn't had the energy to think about dealing with the Army, insurance companies and her mobile phone provider. No doubt each of them would say it was somebody else's problem.

The only thing left was a small pair of earrings – she didn't really wear much jewellery but he'd given them to her so she liked to wear them and she tucked them carefully away in her purse. Her watch had been shattered and after a quick glance at it she binned it. There was no jeweller anywhere who could fix that and it wasn't special. She was still disappointed that her wedding ring was nowhere to be seen. She could only assume it had been blown off in the explosion and if it still existed at all it was buried somewhere under tons of sand in the Afghan desert. She hadn't mentioned its disappearance to anyone there was no point but she minded its loss desperately. It was probably silly of her to care so much - her marriage was over in all but name after all but it still hurt.

Dylan probably wouldn't have been best pleased to know she still wore his ring but he hadn't known. Nobody had. She'd kept it tucked deep inside her scrubs where only she knew it was there, but she had liked knowing that she preserved that one last symbol of their marriage. She swallowed hard and hastily blinked back the tears, it was no use crying over a lost chunk of metal – it was gone and couldn't be replaced and that was all there was to it.

She lay awake that night for hours worrying about the next day. She had no doubt she would have to face everyone if not tomorrow the day after. She'd left without saying goodbye and they were unlikely to let her escape without questions. She would also have to deal with being in Holby and invading Dylan's home, life and workplace again. She'd tried so hard to let him go so he could get on with living his life without her.

If she was right and what he was really doing was beginning again with Zoe, she wasn't at all sure she could bear to watch. She didn't actually dislike the older woman – she could see she had good points but she couldn't see what about her would appeal to Dylan. Although she'd never really known what it was about herself that had appealed to him either. He was unfathomable most of the time.

Sam had made her decision to leave when she had seen the pair of them kissing in the office one night after work. She'd gone to leave some paprwork on Nick's desk and there they were. Thankfully they had not heard her stifled gasp or seen her hasty retreat. She had stumbled away to the ladies to throw up and then escaped the hospital for a run as quickly as she could. She'd run for miles through the dark and freezing rain, trying desperately to outrun the pain clawing at her chest.

It hadn't worked and she'd spent a sleepless night dry eyed, racked with silent sobs struggling with a hurt that went too deep for tears. She'd been certain that she could not bear it except of course that she had no choice but to bear it. Pride meant that nobody must know she still loved her husband if he didn't want her and the anguish she felt knowing there was no hope he would forgive her must be endured completely alone.

At some point in the dark hours before the dawn she had realised she might have lost Dylan's love but she didn't have to torture herself watching him love someone else. The next day, she'd contacted her Army liaison officer and begged them to transfer her somewhere anywhere else as long as it was a long way from Holby.

She wondered what Zoe thought about Dylan's zealous attentions to her since the accident. She could hardly blame her if she was put out about it. There was nothing she could do about invading his life or indeed Zoe's again at the moment, the situation was well out of her hands and everyone thought that they were doing what was best for her. She was just going to have to make the best of it – enjoy what time she had left with her husband and concentrate on storing up memories she could focus on later when she was alone and had nothing else.

Then in a month or so when she was well enough she'd go away again. Find somewhere far enough away to lick her wounds and begin putting her life back together again in peace. She might never find anyone else to love or to love her back – she was certain that Dylan was it for her for all time but if she was lucky she might find a measure of peace and contentment.

Maybe she'd get herself a kitten – she couldn't have another dog Dervla was irreplaceable but she could have a kitten to lavish the love she couldn't give anyone else on. It would be nice to have a living thing to come home to at the end of the day. She still hated coming home to a cold dark empty flat.

Sam sighed she'd probably have to find herself a new training post too. It was more than likely that the Army would decide to discharge her as unfit for service. She knew she was likely to make an almost full recovery. It would probably be considered a full recovery for an ordinary person, certainly good enough for her to continue practising as a doctor and lead what most people would consider a full and active life but that didn't mean it would be good enough for the Army.

Her spleen was gone and although she knew she could live without it perfectly well it would always have certain implications – she'd always be immune-compromised and be at higher risk of picking up malaria and other tropical diseases they were unlikely to want her in a combat zone again or the Tropics which would make her a pretty useless army medic. Certainly she would never be allowed back to Afghanistan and she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. On the whole she didn't think she ever wanted to go back.

Sam wasn't sure she'd be considered mobile enough for the Army either. Everyone was being very positive but she'd seen her own x-rays she would be lucky not to limp however good alignment they'd managed and regardless of how much physio she had. She kept telling herself she was lucky not to have lost limbs and to be able to walk and she should be grateful for anything else but she did hope that she'd be able to run and climb again, she wasn't sure what she'd do if she couldn't. Running was always her escape when everything was too much.

She had a bad night brooding on all the things she could not change and the short road journey was far more tiring than she had expected it to be. It wasn't good finding out that being driven 90 miles left her weak as a kitten and aching all over. To add to her embarrassment she was met in her weakened state, at the front doors of the private wing by the Clinical Director Mr Griffin himself and several other members of the Trust management team. They personally escorted her to what was quite clearly the best room in the wing.

Even more disconcertingly it was filled with flowers, balloons, fruit, banners and chocolates which she was told had been provided by her erstwhile colleagues in the ED with the exception of the enormous basket of flowers which was apparently a gift from the Trust. Thank God Dylan hadn't bought her any ghastly extravagant meaningless gifts. He understood just how much she hated sentimental commercialised rubbish.

"We're all very proud of you in Holby, Dr Nicholls," Ric Griffin said smoothly, "and hope that you will make a swift recovery in our care."

Sam wanted the ground to open and swallow her up, she hadn't done anything special. It was just her job and she'd hardly been a hero – she'd made a complete mess of that Cas Evac and not only had all the casualties died she'd lost most of her team. The army certainly wouldn't have classed it as her finest hour. Neither would those poor young lads' Mums.

She wondered as she'd done many times before if they'd had girlfriends – if somewhere out there, there was a devastated young woman who had been told that the man she loved would not be coming home to her. Hell they could even have been fathers. She'd been shocked at first to realise how many of those young men in Afghanistan were parents at seventeen or eighteen. She'd let her team down, sent them into danger, misjudged the situation and then she had been the one to make it back home. It wasn't fair.

There was no one who would really have minded that much if she hadn't made it back either. Her Mum would probably barely have noticed – just sulked that it was Dylan in line for the pension and the life insurance payout and Dylan might have been sorry in the way he'd be sorry if a distant acquaintance died but he'd probably have been relieved to be spared the hassle of sorting out a divorce.

She was relieved when the Sister in charge a very firm and strict woman called a halt to the undeserved hero's welcome, chased everyone out of the room and insisted that Sam must be left to rest in peace.

"I understand your husband will be up here at lunchtime Dr Nicholls but until then they can just all leave you to lie down and rest in peace. I'll get you a nice cup of tea and some painkillers and leave you for a nap."

"Thank you," Sam managed weakly, she really did feel awful. Her head was thumping, her side was throbbing and her damaged hip was agonising. All she really wanted was to lie quietly in the dark and wait for the pain to pass. "Could you make it a coffee though please?"

"That can be arranged. I can see I'm going to have my work cut out to keep your friends away from you long enough for you to recover. Just your husband today I think." The nurse said thoughtfully "Tomorrow is soon enough for the rest of them to descend on you."

Sam was frankly relieved to hear that she wouldn't have to face anyone that day. It would be far too much effort to smile, answer polite enquiries nicely and generally be sociable. If that nurse (She really must find out what her name was she hadn't caught it earlier. She couldn't fall back on Dylan's Nurse Thingummy – it got people's backs up.) was going to act like a bodyguard and keep them all away so much the better.

She dozed briefly, enjoying the comfort of the really rather superior bed, fluffy pillows and the nice soft duvet. Patients in the private wing clearly did very nicely thank you. The blinds on the windows actually fitted and blacked the room out properly too.

"You awake Sam," Dylan said softly.

She opened her eyes at her husband's voice "I am now."

"Sorry, Sister said you had a rough trip here?" he replied

"I swear that ambulance had no springs at all and the driver deliberately hit every pothole and bump in the road," she moaned petulantly.

"Sore?" he asked

"Very! It is going off a bit now though. That nice Sister found me some decent painkillers." Sam said

"I've brought you some lunch if you can face it?" he told her

"What is it?" she asked

"Nothing very special, I went across to the Cafe over the road and got one of those roast beef and horseradish sandwiches you like. There's a slice of chocolate fudge cake for later too," he coaxed .

Sam sat up, "That sounds good." she said brightening. "I was travel sick for the first time in my life coming here but I think I'm hungry now."

"Good." He smiled at her "I figured I can come have breakfast with you before work, come up her at lunchtime and we can eat dinner here after work. I am told there's quite a good menu to choose from up here and Sister says no one will mind if I order meals too."

"Will you be eating here for the pleasure of my company or to economise?"Sam responded at once.

"I'm here to see you obviously and if I happen to avoid the odd trip to the seventh layer of hell that is the supermarket so much the better," he replied with great satisfaction.

"You'll still have to feed Dervla," she reminded him determined to find a flaw in his plans.

"I can get her stuff delivered," he said smugly.

"You've got it all worked out haven't you?" she said in disgust

"Of course," Dylan grinned at her. "Now if I don't eat up I'll be late back downstairs and Nick will be up here demanding to know why I'm skiving. He says he'll be up tomorrow to talk to you."

"You know I really don't think I like this being a patient thing. You can't escape for a start." Sam said wearily.

"It could be worse you could be my patient," he said promptly

"Thank God I'm not." Sam retorted "I'd never have a moment's peace."

"Who says you will anyway, he asked.

"Admittedly it's highly unlikely if you're around," she responded feeling more cheerful than she had all day.

She was in a bad way if just seeing him could make her feel better. How was she going to find the strength to do as she knew she must and walk away from him again when this was all over?

Actually being a patient in Holby City wasn't as bad as Sam had feared. Once she'd accepted that she was in the hospital and she was stuck there for the foreseeable future it was nice to have plenty of company. Her former colleagues did pop in and out all day every day. Dixie proved more than willing to go to Boots and buy all her preferred toiletries and made a detour to M&S for clothes that actually fitted. It did a lot for her morale to wear clothes that were not 2 sizes too big.

Linda donated the biggest pile of gossip magazines Sam had ever seen. They were vacuous and full or innuendo about people she'd never heard of but Linda meant well and helped to pass the time. The most amusing effect had been Dylan's appalled face when he'd seen her reading them. He had appeared the following day with a large pile of textbooks and suggested that if she wanted to read it would be better to prepare for her exams. She'd struggled to keep a straight face it had been so predictable.

He stuck to his word and appeared for bacon sandwiches at 7am, lunch whenever he could escape the ED and dinner when his shift ended by which time Sam was usually famished. It all got a bit mixed up when he was working nights and he'd turn up at some point in the early hours for a midnight snack much to whichever nurse who was in charge's horror but Sam was often awake. She didn't sleep much unless she'd had some really intensive physio because she just wasn't doing enough to get particularly tired.

They'd added in some hydrotherapy now the wounds were healing nicely which helped. The water took her weight and she could actually move freely and with only discomfort rather than actual pain. The lead physio had promised her just as soon as she could walk along the corridor and manage a flight of stairs with crutches she could be discharged and she was working as hard as she could determined not to stay in hospital a moment longer than she must.

"Sam what are you going to do when they discharge you," Dylan asked her one day the following week.

"I haven't really thought about it," She said honestly "I thought I'd find myself a hotel. I don't want to rent anywhere for a couple of weeks."

"You bloody well won't go to a hotel. You're coming to stay with me and Dervla of course." Dylan said as if it was a statement of fact.

"Am I?" she said in a dangerously quiet tone. "Do I get a choice in any of this."

"I thought you'd be pleased," her husband said in a faintly bewildered tone "A hotel will cost you a fortune and living in hotels isn't nice."

"It would just be nice to be asked not told," she said wearily "ever since the accident everyone has told me what I'm going to do. No one has asked me what I want once."

"What do you want?" he asked impatiently

"I don't know," she said hopelessly.

Actually that wasn't true she knew exactly what she wanted it was just that she couldn't have it and Dylan kept inadvertently tormenting her with glimpses of the life she wanted so much but couldn't have.

"Then why not stay with us for a bit. I can drive you in for your physio and Dervla will love having you around. You said you missed her."

He made it all sound so easy and pleasant and it could all be so easy except that she'd get used to it. It would be like having her old life back again and then when she had to leave again it would kill her. It was very tempting though. She'd dreamt of sharing their lives again and now she could even if it was just for a few short weeks. It would be another memory for her to hold on to when it was all over too.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you," she said once again bowing to the inevitable and hoping that she was going to be able to find the courage to start all over again when she had to.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you to all the people who kindly reviewed the last chapter especially Callie who kindly allowed me to bounce a few ideas off her. You'll be pleased to know that we are finally nearing the end of this effort. I had no idea that it would be more than 20,000 words when I started. I hope you enjoy it._

**Chapter 7**

Sam spent most of the next week wondering what on earth had possessed her when she'd agreed to Dylan's plan. She was going to get hurt as surely as the sun would rise in the east. Two or three weeks of domesticity with her husband was inevitably going to be followed by loneliness and pain – if she was lucky it would only be no worse than it had been before but some sixth sense told her the heartbreak that was heading her way was going to be worse than she'd ever endured in the past.

She was strangely happy to be back in Holby which was odd when she had been so miserable living there before. Perhaps it was because Dylan wasn't ignoring her the way he had in those last awful weeks. If she was honest that and the knowledge that he was falling for Zoe had been what had finally broken her. Working with him wasn't a problem. They'd always made a good team; she could anticipate his every move without the need for words.

Professionally they were damn good together always had been it was unfortunate that weren't quite such a good a team in their own lives. It had been easier while she was away - she'd learned to live with the quiet, dull lonely ache of missing him and knowing her love wasn't reciprocated. The problem had been that in Holby she couldn't separate the professional from the private at least not from herself. It had got harder and harder to bear watching him go home without her at the end of each day. It was a daily reminder of everything she'd lost or rather thrown away.

She knew if it progressed to her watching him go home with Zoe every day that would be unendurable. She would never be able to wish them happiness sincerely. The only consolation she had was that this was still a deeply private hurt and no one else knew or suspected how much she minded or at least she hoped they didn't. At least she still had her dignity and what remained of her pride. She could not have borne pity - his or other peoples.

Accepting the secondment to Holby in the first place had been a mistake – of course she wouldn't have done it if she'd known her estranged husband was working there. It transpired that all those people who'd said you should never go back were wiser than she'd given them credit for. Once she'd discovered he was there she could have backed out but she hadn't. Maybe she acknowledged some small corner of her mind had subconsciously hoped that it would be one of those slow motion type reunions beloved of old films and thy would resolve their differences and live happily ever after but happily ever after was only for stories and probably only because that was where they ended. If Cinderella had taken Cinders past her wedding day to Prince Charming he'd probably have been revealed as a dull snoring philandering pig.

She was no Cinderella and there wasn't going to be any happy ending for her. When she was finally discharged from outpatients she'd leave and find herself a job somewhere as far away as possible maybe the Lakes or Northumberland, she'd heard Norfolk was nice too. Anywhere where she could be sure of not running into him or seeing him or even hearing his name. She might stand a chance of putting the pieces of her life back together then.

Physically she was making phenomenal progress, finally getting to grips with the despised crutches and to her relief she finally managed to all important walk down the corridor and back without falling over or even wobbling. Two days later she got down a flight of stairs and back up again. Admittedly one short flight of stairs took her twenty minutes and she was gasping for breath, with legs like jelly and she ached for hours but she'd done it and she couldn't conceal her triumph.

She finally got her longed for Scotch as Mr Jordan stuck to his promise that when she managed the stairs he would bring her a good stiff double of Glenmorangie to celebrate. It was a good incentive and the alcohol helped ease the stiffness in her muscles from the unaccustomed exercise. By tacit agreement neither of them mentioned the unofficial reward scheme to Dylan – both were wholly aware he'd disapprove. The achievement also meant she was able to escape the hospital at last.

* * *

><p>The night before she was finally discharged Sam was surprised to receive a unaccompanied visit from Zoe, she'd come before but only in a group they'd never had the opportunity for a one to one conversation and if she was honest she was relieved about it. She didn't want to talk to the other woman at all. She wouldn't be able to look her in the eye and wish her luck with Dylan and she certainly wouldn't be able to assure Zoe that she didn't mind her husband moving on with her and be believed. At least she was up dressed and sitting in the armchair which put her at less of a disadvantage than being in bed would have done.<p>

"Hi," Zoe sat down on the hard chair in the corner. "Are you relieved to be escaping?"

"Of course, I've spent more time in hospital than I ever wanted to." Sam replied carefully remaining conventionally polite.

"Well you gave everyone quite a scare, especially poor Dylan." Zoe informed her

"Did I?" Sam said hoping she didn't sound as frosty as she felt.

"Of course you did. I've never seen him look so ghastly. When he saw that Colonel whathisname who came to tell him about the incident he went grey. He thought you were dead – something about officers only show up with their hats on if it's bad news." Zoe continued

"Everybody says that," Sam replied "I don't know if it's really true though."

"Dylan thought it was. The first thing he asked was if you were dead. I thought he was going to faint." Zoe told her

"He didn't say," Sam said faintly

"I don't suppose he did. What is it with you two?" the other woman asked her

"Sorry?" Sam knew she sounded frosty now.

"Well it's not any of my business but it's obvious to all of us that you both still care," Zoe said cautiously.

"You're right it's not any of your business," Sam said furiously.

"Is whatever Dylan did really so bad you can't patch it up?" Zoe enquired curiously.

"Who says it was something he did," she said incredulously.

"Well everyone assumed…" Zoe said.

"Well don't assume. Dylan didn't do anything wrong! Don't you dare blame him!" Sam was almost incandescent with rage.

"Ok, I'm sorry – I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions," Zoe apologised hastily.

"No you bloody shouldn't." Sam snapped "Anyway I thought the sooner it was all over the happier you'd be."

"Why would you think that?" Zoe sounded genuinely puzzled

"Because you've been having an affair with my husband for months." Sam said bitterly, "and we might be separated but we are still married."

"We've what!" Zoe looked incredulous. "I've no idea how you got that idea."

"I know what I saw," Sam told her mutinously.

"What do you think you saw?" Zoe asked.

"I don't think, I know! I saw you and Dylan in Mr Jordan's office!" She muttered still hating to think about that night.

"Oh that," Zoe was clearly discomfited.

"Yes oh," Sam snapped.

"It wasn't what you think," she replied uncomfortably.

"It never is," Sam retorted.

"No really it wasn't." Zoe assured her "I kissed Dylan on impulse and he wasn't grateful. We're just friends Sam well as far as anyone can be friends with Dylan. If he wasn't married maybe I could have been interested but he is and I don't have affairs with married men – much too messy. Not to mention I'd be wasting my time trying. He hasn't got eyes or a thought to spare for any woman except you. Everyone knows that."

"Everyone is wrong," Sam said decisively.

"He drove 180 miles every single day to see you. Why do you suppose he did that?" Zoe said "For goodness sake Sam talk to him before it's too late."

"Why do you care?" she asked.

"Because you are both evidently bloody miserable and maybe if you actually sat down and talked you'd sort out your differences and be happy." Zoe told her, "I know I shouldn't meddle but I can't stand seeing you both so unhappy. For goodness sake swallow your pride and tell him how you feel. If you wait for Dylan to make the first move you'll still be waiting when you retire. I assume you know that rather better than I do."

Sam just stared at her blankly unable to get her head round any of the things Zoe had been saying.

"I think it's probably time I went." Zoe continued, "but at least think about it Sam."

* * *

><p>She was still pondering what Zoe had said when Dylan came to take her back to his boat next day. She was feeling very confused but she was aware of a deep sense of relief that Zoe had said there was nothing between her and Dylan although she wasn't sure why Zoe seemed to think Dylan still cared – he just felt guilty probably because he suspected reasonably accurately she'd gone back to Helmand and thus been injured because of him.<p>

He'd clearly attempted to tidy the boat up because she was staying but it was still fairly chaotic. She didn't mind neither she nor Dylan has ever been exactly domesticated, the boat was cosy and comfortable and she felt more at home there in five minutes than she ever had in the grim flat she'd rented near the hospital. Dervla was thrilled to see her and had rushed out to greet her circling her feet wildly barking in excitement her tail wagging furiously. She nearly knocked Sam flying as she was still not as steady as she'd like to be on the crutches and if Dylan hadn't extended a steadying arm she was fairly sure she'd have fallen flat on the deck.

"Down Dervla," Dylan scolded her "You'll knock Sam over."

The dog was not noticeably abashed by the reprimand and as soon as Sam was safely ensconced on the sofa she leapt into her lap. She stroked the dog's soft silky fur and she writhed ecstatically.

"I have missed you, you daft furball," she murmured suddenly aware of those all too frequent tears welling up again. She blinked them back furiously she was fed up of the way she kept on weeping like a dripping tap.

"She missed you too," Dylan said "she spent weeks wandering around looking for you when you first left."

Sam said nothing she felt guilty enough already without him rubbing it in. She contented herself with petting the dog and vowing that while she was there she'd try and make it up to Dervla. She's hated having to leave her behind but there had been no way she could do anything else. She was Dylan's dog and he adored her – she'd hurt him more than enough without taking his dog too. Anyway Dervla was better off with him.

She'd never really been the maternal type and they'd never even discussed children but Dervla was their baby. Leaving her had felt like leaving her child or how she imagined it would feel to leave a child. She'd spent hours wondering if she was safe and happy, imagining her mown down by fast cars or poisoned by careless farmers even though she knew Dylan would look after her properly.

Later after Dylan had heated a pizza, they sprawled together on their sofa in front of the solid full stove basking in the heat it poured into the room; it had given her a pang to see the familiar battered but comfortable couch sitting in the middle of his sitting room. Dervla was lying between them and they could so easily have turned the clock back two years and been in their old house in Somerset. If only she could just turn back time and avoid all those mistakes she'd made.

"This is nice," Sam said appreciatively.

"What is?" Dylan asked her

"Being here, not being in hospital," she elaborated. Not wanting to tell him that actually it wouldn't have mattered where they were as long as he and Dervla were there. They were the things that made home for her not the place. It didn't bode well for her ever having a home of her own again.

"Nice having you here," he muttered "it's the first time I've known you to be pinned down in one place for years. I might actually know where you are and what you're up to for a change."

"You...you ...you're impossible." She stammered giving up on trying to find a suitable riposte.

"I got you something," he said as if he'd suddenly remembered. Getting off the sofa he presented her with a small package which proved to contain a fairly basic mobile phone. "There's no landline here – I know you haven't sorted out getting yours replaced. This way you can call me if you need to when I'm at work."

Why did he always do that? Infuriate her almost to distraction and then do something incredibly thoughtful and sweet and totally disarm her again.

* * *

><p>Ten days later Sam was alone in the boat with Dervla while Dylan was at work. She was getting increasingly good at using them and could now move around the boat more or less at will. She'd even learned to balance on one and make herself a cup of coffee or prepare a simple meal with the other hand. She'd just been to let Dervla in when she caught her foot in the edge of a rug and before she could regain her balance her crutches went in one direction, she went in the other and she landed on the floor with a sickening crash.<p>

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there dazed with pain but eventually she was aware that Dervla was licking her face uneasily.

"It's ok darling, I'm not dead", she reassured the agitated dog.

She tried to raise herself into a sitting position but pain surged through her ribs and shoulder and she sank back onto the floor in a heap with a strangled gasp. After ten minutes she tried to move again but found she couldn't lift herself to a sitting or standing position without using her damaged left side and it was simply too weakened to cooperate. Half an hour later she was getting very cold, the floor was uncomfortable and draughty and she was quite clearly stuck there until someone else appeared to rescue her and that was unlikely to happen until Dylan returned from work. She looked at her watch it was only 4pm and as he was doing a late shift she could be in for a long, dark, cold very uncomfortable evening.

Sam wasn't entirely sure how long she stayed huddled up on the floor, she was aware of it growing darker and of Dervla coming to lay down beside her. She rested her head on the dogs soft flank grateful for her warmth and comfort. She heard the heating click off, the floor grew colder and colder and she realised if she stayed there she would end up with hypothermia. She had no intention of surviving a roadside bomb in Helmand only to die of cold in Holby.

Making a strenuous effort she managed to half raise herself and then drag herself across the floor to the chair where she'd left her bag and her new mobile. She had to stop and rest before dragging the bag down by its strap and grasping the phone with relief. The number she wanted was on speed dial and the relief when Noel's calm reassuring voice sounded in her ear was immeasurable.

"Noel can you get Dylan for me please?" she asked hoping she sounded calm.

"He's with a patient in CDU can I get him to call you back?" Noel said.

She considered briefly, if he was with a patient, she really shouldn't disturb him and another few minutes on the floor wouldn't hurt her. "Ok but please make sure he phones me back quickly!" she agreed.

"You all right Sam, you sound upset?" He asked her sounding a little anxious.

"I'm fine but please don't forget to tell him to ring me as soon as he finishes," she replied quickly.

The last thing she wanted was for everyone in the ED to know she'd fallen flat on her face and if she told Noel undoubtedly they'd soon all know what had happened and she couldn't bear it.

She propped herself up against the chair wondering if there was any way she could get into the chair when the phone rang again. She snatched at it. "Hello?"

"Sam – what is it?" Dylan sounded perturbed and he was slightly out of breath he must have hurried to the phone.

"I...I tripped over the rug, I'm on the floor and I can't get up again." Despite herself her voice quivered on the last words and she knew he must have noticed it.

"Are you hurt?" he was definitely worried now.

"Only bruised I think and a bit cold," she reassured him quickly.

"I'll come and get you up. I'll be as quick as I can" he promised.

Once he'd put the phone down, only pride stopped Sam from curling into a ball and weeping. Here she was 26 and on the floor in a heap waiting for her husband to come and pick her up like an eighty year old. She'd thought she was doing so much better as well.

She heard his feet thumping across the upper deck less than a quarter of an hour later. He must have driven fast – how many speeding fines had he picked up on his way over here.

"Sam," she heard the note of panic in his voice.

"Down here," she called back wearily.

She heard him thumping down the stairs and for the first time identified that there were two pairs of feet. Who had he brought with him? She looked up and saw his face tight with anxiety wondering who had come with him to find her in this humiliating and undignified position. She was stunned to see Nick Jordan following him down the steps.

"Stay still, until I've looked at that hip," her former boss instructed her firmly "I hope you haven't displaced it falling."

"I've already moved to get to the phone," Sam told him.

"Nevertheless stay put until I'm sure we won't do any more damage moving you."

Dylan was already kneeling down beside her on the floor, "You're frozen Sam" he said anxiously. "Are you sure you're all right."

"Put the heating on and make her a hot drink," Nick Jordan said impatiently "make me one too while you're at it."

Dylan went relatively meekly to do as he was told which was unlike him Sam thought reflectively. He must have been concerned if he was willing to defer to Nick in his own home and over his wife.

"Let's have a look at you then," Nick was all the efficient clinical lead now. "Did you hit your head?"

"Definitely not!" she declared with certainty.

"Excellent, I know you've demonstrated you've a fairly solid skull but even so I think your head could do without anymore knocks. How did you fall?" he asked.

"Caught my foot in the rug, fell forward and landed on my left shoulder," she explained succinctly.

"Is it painful?" he questioned already feeling the joint.

"Bit sore but nothing drastic," Sam replied wincing as he touched a sensitive spot.

"Not ideal," Nick's fingers were moving gently over her damaged shoulder and arm as he spoke. "You've got yourself some more bruises but otherwise I don't think you've done any more damage. Any chest pain?"

"No" she told him.

"And the leg?" he asked.

"Tender but no more than you'd expect after I've landed on top of it." she responded

Nick was busy examining her injured limbs looking for any signs that she had damaged the healing fractures. He was gentle but very through and she could help a sudden sharp intake of breath.

"Sorry! I wouldn't recommend crashing to the floor for someone with multiple fractures but I think you've been lucky and got away with it Sam," Nick smiled at her then helped her to her feet. "Let's get you onto that sofa with a blanket and warm you up a bit. I don't know what's keeping Dylan with the coffee."

"Thank you," Sam said quietly. "What made you come with Dylan?"

"He was slightly frantic when he came to tell me you'd fallen and he needed to leave now. He was planning to bring you straight back in for a full set of scans. I'd a feeling you'd rather avoid that particular public excitement," Nick said.

"I would," she agreed.

"So I said I'd come back with him and provide a second opinion so to speak," he explained.

"That was nice of you." Sam said gratefully.

"Not really – there was a board meeting I was desperate to avoid," he admitted with a sheepish grin

"Are you supposed to admit that?" she teased.

"Probably not! Look Sam, I know there may be issues with you going back to the Army." he observed carefully.

"You mean they are probably going to medically discharge me," she said baldly.

"Well yes, that is looking likely isn't it?" he assented.

"I've a medical in a fortnight. No one's said anything but I'm not an idiot. I'm fairly sure they are going to say thank you and goodbye," she admitted ruefully.

"There's always a job for you here if you want one," he offered.

"That's nice to know." She smiled appreciatively.

"You're a damned good doctor Sam and I rather thought you might have personal reasons for wanting to stay," he went on guardedly.

"Really?" she asked.

Nick took a cautious look around evidently wanting to be sure Dylan wasn't going to come back in and interrupt, and then lowered his voice. "Sam about 12 years ago I was in a similar place to you except that I had only myself to blame. I was married and it had all gone disastrously wrong. I loved my wife but frankly I was an appalling husband. I lied, I cheated, and I let her down. Quite understandably she wanted out and because I loved her I let her go. I've regretted it ever since."

"I didn't know," she replied more gently than usual.

"No reason why you should. Karen married again, had a couple of children – she's happy and I'm glad but don't make my mistake. If you want your marriage to survive intact then fight for it. What have you got to lose?" he urged her.

"Except my pride," she said dryly.

"Take it from the voice of experience Sam. Pride doesn't keep you warm at night and it certainly doesn't hold you in its arms after a bad day," Nick finished hastily.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you once again to all the lovely people who have gien me feedback. It is much appreciated. I've spent the last three days frantically writing this but I promise I will catch up on feedback soon. This is the longest part I've written yet and I hope its not too long for people to cope with._

_Once again thanks to Callie and I hope the explanations make her happy. Read on to find out what happened to the wedding ring and to meet Sam's charming mother._

**Chapter 8**

"Coffee," Dylan reappeared with the hot drinks which spared her the necessity of answering. She wondered how many more of her former colleagues were going to try their hand at marriage guidance in the next few weeks. They'd all managed to more or less mind their own business when she'd worked there so she'd no idea what had provoked this sudden change of heart.

Sam curled up comfortably on the old worn sofa with a blanket round her and Dervla on her feet and began to thaw out. She was quite happy sipping coffee listening to the other two talk about the day in the ED and a patient with some sort of complex condition in CDU. She assumed they'd both head back soon and she'd be on her own with Dervla again. She'd do some studying or listen to the radio in peace.

"I'd better get back," Nick announced as he drained his mug. "You might as well stay Dylan."

"Are you sure?" Dylan asked

"Don't turn down an unexpected evening off; anyway Sam clearly needs supervising to keep her out of trouble. Estimable creature though she is I don't think that mutt of yours is up to the task," Nick replied.

Sam bristled instantly – why were they all trying to look after her. She could look after herself, she had done for years. She'd been living independently when she was 15 for goodness sake she was damn sure neither of them had. In fact she knew Dylan had been being spoon-fed in a posh boys' boarding school when he was 15 and someone possibly Charlie had told her that Nick was the adored only son of smothering Italian parents. She bit back a rude retort Nick had just offered her a job and while she was fairly sure she wouldn't be accepting his offer she would need his help and a reference when it came to finding herself a new job on the other side of the country.

* * *

><p>She and Dylan sat in silence on the sofa for a long time after Nick had gone. It was a comfortable silence rather than the long strained uncomfortable ones that had stretched between over the months when they'd worked together. Sam tried not to wish that she was curled up against him with her head on his shoulder and his arm round her the way it used to be when they were together.<p>

Eventually she broke the silence "I had a letter this morning. I've got to go back to Birmingham on the 27th for a medical."

"Want me to come with you?" he offered at once.

"You can't take any more time off for me. It's not as if we don't both know what they're going to say." Sam said with a calm she wasn't sure she felt. Actually she would like him to go with her. The thought of making the train trip to Birmingham and getting a taxi to the hospital on her own with crutches was a bit overwhelming.

"I'd have thought it's far too soon for them to make any decisions," he replied. "Much better to leave it a few more months."

"Oh come off it Dylan, it might be too soon to know how my hip will heal but we both know the Army isn't going to be pleased about the asplenia immunodeficiency. It will make me a liability and that's not going to go away," she said impatiently.

"It's not a big problem with proper vaccinations and low dose antibiotic therapy," he persisted.

"It's not a big problem in the UK it will be in a War Zone. They'll discharge me," she insisted

"I'm sorry, I know it's what you wanted." Dylan sympathised.

He must never ever let her know that actually nothing would please him more than if the army decided it no longer required her services and she stayed safely at home in a UK ED.

"I don't think it is anymore." She told him surprising even herself. "I'm not sure it ever was. I know I never ever want to go back to Afghanistan."

"Why did you sign up if it wasn't what you wanted?" He asked looking confused.

"To finish medical school, I'd spent all the money Dad left me and there wasn't any more. Mum wouldn't help me nobody else could and the army would pay all my expenses but in return I had to agree to work for them for 6 years. It seemed like a good deal when I was 20. I didn't know that the war on terror wouldn't be over by then or that I'd meet you a few months later, that by the time I qualified I'd be married and want to stay at home but the contract was already signed and there was no getting out of it," she explained.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked her.

"What was the point I couldn't get out of it I'd still have to go." she responded

"You can buy yourself out of those contracts can't you?" he said.

"If you can afford to but I didn't have 45 thousand pounds to pay the army back," she answered

"But I did. Why didn't you say something? I thought it was what you wanted." He asked

"I couldn't ask..." she stammered.

"Why the hell not? You're my wife Sam. I wanted you safe at home but I wasn't going to stop you from doing what you wanted. If you'd said it wasn't what you wanted, I'd just have signed a cheque and that would have been that," he told her.

"You'd do that for me!" She said incredulously.

"It's only money," he shrugged. "It's half yours anyway."

Sam gulped this whole damn mess the destruction of her marriage was totally pointless. Dylan had wanted to buy her out of that unconscionable contract but thought she didn't want him too. If he'd only said something... She was still trying to find something coherent to say, and struggling not to cry again when once again she heard feet tapping across the upper deck – feet which were clearly encased in very high heels. If that was Zoe turning up uninvited to intrude now she would kill her with her bare hands.

"Whoever it is they can just bugger off." Dylan said forcibly getting up to go to the door.

"Yoohoo Sammi darling" trilled an all too familiar voice from above them.

There was only one person who called Sam Sammi. Dylan felt his wife stiffen beside him at the sound of the hated diminutive name and when he turned to look at her all the colour had drained from her face.

"Can we pretend no ones in?" she whispered desperately.

"Sam the lights are on?" he said logically enough.

"Please just make her go away." Her voice was wobbling and he could feel her shaking "I don't want her here."

"I won't let her upset you." He promised knowing even as he said it that it was a futile thing to have said. Sam was already upset and he doubted his own ability to prevent her ghastly mother from barging her way in or to stop her from upsetting his wife.

"She... she ... doesn't know...anything." Sam managed to say "She doesn't know about the accident, that we separated, I'm working in Holby – anything!"

"It's ok," Dylan soothed her "she won't hear anything from me.

He got up and went to the door, Dervla at his heels, he certainly didn't want that woman knowing he and Sam weren't together anymore. He'd lose what little protection he had from her. Even knowing he was married to her daughter hadn't stopped the ghastly Cindy from making a pass at him when they'd spent that excruciating long weekend in Malaga soon after they were married. Sam hadn't wanted to go and he'd coaxed her into it thinking he should meet her mother. They'd barely got off the plane when he'd wanted to turn around and go back. He shuddered remembering. Cindy would have to go and quickly.

He opened the front door and couldn't quite disguise the instant revulsion he felt. Sam's mother might once have been beautiful like her daughter but now she was a faded, raddled old crone. Actually he didn't think she was all that old probably not that much more than ten years older than him. He was sure Sam had once said her mother was 19 when she was born but years of drinking, smoking and far too much sun had taken their toll and Cindy had skin like brown leather and hair which was dyed far too blonde. She was wearing a shirt skirt and tight top her own daughter would not have been seen dead in with teetering high heels at least 3 inches higher than anything Zoe would have worn, towing a leopard skin suitcase on wheels

"Well you two are damned hard to find," Sam's mother shrieked "I went to your old house in that godforsaken spot at the back of beyond but they said you'd moved here."

Dylan winced at the sound of her voice she only had one volume - excruciatingly loud. Everyone in the Marina could probably hear her, had she no sense of discretion at all. The last thing he wanted was the neighbours knowing or worse discussing his life. He was fairly sure that they were curious enough about the sudden appearance of Sam, somehow it had leaked out she was his wife and he was aware there had been much speculation about why they hadn't seen her before. They could both do without anymore conjecture from the other houseboat dwellers.

"What are you doing here?" Dylan asked – aware that this was not the polite or socially acceptable way to greet ones mother-in-law but he really didn't care.

"I've come to see my only daughter of course." Cindy replied

"It's not really convenient now," Dylan said trying hard to be polite although he'd have liked to simply tell her to go far far away and never come back.

"Not convenient to see my only child, when I've come all the way from Spain to see her. I suppose you two have some posh visitors here and don't want me showing you up well I don't care if it's bloody convenient or not," she yelled barging past him and down the stairs. He followed her reluctantly and was in time to see Sam flinch at her mother's first words. "Sammi love. I've come to see you"

"My name's Sam," his wife said it firmly and clearly.

"Not to me it's not. You'll always be Sammi to me. It was your father who insisted on Samantha – he always thought himself a cut above the rest of us and so do you," her mother retorted.

"Why are you here?" Sam asked her and her voice dripped ice. Dylan was relieved the tone wasn't aimed at him

"I'm back in England for a day or two and I thought I'd come to see you" Cindy explained archly.

"Well you've seen me now," Sam told her dismissively.

"You really do think you're something now that you're Dr Nicholls and married to that posh public schoolboy of yours don't you. Well you'll always be my girl too and don't you forget it." Cindy was shouting now and Sam had shrunk back on the sofa white and shaking.

"I think you should go." Dylan stepped in

"Oh you do, do you and why's that then?" Cindy yelled back having clearly lost all self control.

"Because you are upsetting my wife and I won't have it." His voice was dangerously calm but Dylan was aware of his own tightly controlled fury.

"You won't have it will you. Well how do you propose to stop me," Cindy screamed entirely oblivious to the neighbours who were probably all gathered outside on their decks agog. Domestics were a rare thing in Holby Marina.

Sam was close to tears now and Dylan knew she'd had about as much as she could stand. He didn't know why the relationship between her and her mother was so awful but he could understand why she didn't want her anywhere near her.

""Look" he tried again "You can see Sam's not been well. She's had a nasty accident. This is really isn't a good time."

"And why wasn't I told about this accident?" Cindy asked.

"Because I told Dylan he wasn't to tell you," Sam spat her fury clearly increasing "and because I don't want you anywhere near me not now not ever."

Tears pouring down her face, she rose to her feet and grabbing at her crutches stumbled into the bedroom, Dervla following anxiously at her heels and slammed the door. Dylan stared at his mother-in-law in horror this was just the kind of distressing scene he'd wanted to avoid. He wanted to go after Sam and console her but he'd have to get her unwanted mother out first. He could hardly abandon her in the sitting room while he began the undoubtedly long drawn out task of calming his wife down.

"Can I find you a hotel," he suggested hopefully.

"I thought I could stay here," she said suddenly sagging "I wanted to talk to my girl, make things right."

"Well you're hardly going about it the right way," Dylan told her "You can't stay; we don't have a spare room. There's a Marriott on the other side of the Marina. I'll call them for you."

"You don't understand," she looked at him blankly "I haven't got the money for a hotel. I spent my last cash on a taxi from the airport to that house you don't live in anymore. I came here on a bus. I haven't been on a bus in years."

"But I thought..." he hesitated not actually sure what he'd thought. Cindy and whatwashisname Bobby that was it had never seemed short of money "you and Bobby never seemed short."

"It's all over," she said wearily "Bobby's been nicked - extradited don't they call it by Interpol. They said it was money laundering – I don't even know what that is. They've banged him up in Belmarsh on remand and confiscated everything. House, cars, money the lot...I've got nothing."

"So you showed up here." Dylan said comprehension dawning "intending to sponge off your daughter."

"I've got nowhere else to go." Cindy sounded utterly defeated.

"So it would seem." Dylan looked at her. If Cindy hadn't hurt Sam so much, if she had supported her instead of leaving her to resort to desperate measures that had almost got her killed to qualify he could almost have felt sorry for her. She was just a sad, lonely, deflated, middle aged woman whose life had just fallen down around her ears but he couldn't sympathise with anyone who had reduced his wife to that distraught state. "I'll pay for the hotel room."

He picked up his mobile and called the Marriott, only to discover that there were three international conferences in town and it was the same story at the Holiday Inn, Raddisson, both Best Westerns and even the Travelodge. He struggled with himself he wanted Cindy out preferably right now but he couldn't actually throw her out to sleep on the streets.

He briefly considered phoning Zoe and asking her if she'd put his mother-in-law up but he was certain Sam would not be able to bear any of their colleagues knowing about her embarrassing mother and although he'd never figured out why she and Zoe weren't friendly he was sure she'd mind Zoe knowing more than anyone else.

"You can have the sofa just for tonight," he finally conceded knowing he didn't have any other option "But you are not to even speak to Sam unless she wants you too, I won't have her upset or worried."

"Who do you think you are laying down the law? You've no right to stop me speaking to my daughter." Cindy's temporary humility had clearly passed and he felt his sympathy evaporating with it.

"I've every right, she's my wife and I love her." He declared loudly uncaring at that moment who heard him.

"You really do love her don't you?" the older woman said much more quietly than was her wont.

"Yes," he admitted surprising even him "I do."

"Bobby and me thought you were a dirty old man you know," Cindy said thoughtfully

"I'm sorry," Dylan stared at her bewildered.

"Well you know she was only just 21 you were pushing 30 we never gave you more than 5 minutes let alone 5 years." Cindy told him "We were sure it was all going to end in tears."

"Well you were both wrong," he said abruptly. "There's bedding in that trunk you can use and the bathrooms over there. Help yourself to food and drink."

With that he left Cindy gaping at him like a fish and strode across to the bedroom he hadn't slept in since Sam's arrival ten days ago. That was another problem he'd have to solve later but for now he'd see what he could do to comfort her.

Sam was lying in a huddled up heap on the bed with a worried looking Dervla nuzzling at her face. He shut the door firmly behind him determined that Cindy was not going to be able to hear anything that was said in here.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he said softly.

"Not your fault," she mumbled into the pillow. "I heard you say she could stay."

He sat down on the bed and lifted her out of the pillows, and onto his lap stroking the tangled blond hair out of her eyes.

"I didn't have any choice," he apologised.

"I know. It doesn't matter" she murmured.

"What happened with you and your Mother?" he asked quietly

"I don't really know. We've never got on. It was different when Dad was alive. He spoilt me and it didn't matter that she didn't give a damn but after he died..." Sam was surprised that she was telling him this – she'd never told anyone before. "I don't think it was what you'd call a successful marriage. One of Dad's sisters told me they had to get married because of me. She was a secretary at the hospital where Dad worked. He was more than twice her age. According to Aunt Cathy she was determined to catch herself a consultant so she got herself pregnant and Dad had to marry her. I don't think either of them wanted me but at least Dad loved me once I was here."

Dylan squeezed her hand wishing he was the kind of man who knew the right words to say to make it better "but he died."

"He died," Sam agreed bleakly "He had an aneurism when I was six. There wasn't much money he always spent it all but we had the house and my mother had a small pension. I assume she still does. There was a tiny trust for my education too, she really resented that. Aunt Cathy was my trustee and Cindy couldn't touch it. That was sensible of him it wouldn't have lasted five minutes if she could get near it. Cindy hated being a 25 year old widow with a 6 year old daughter and she took it out on me. Most of the time she tried to pretend I didn't exist."

"She didn't deserve you," he said vehemently "and you certainly didn't deserve her."

"You can be very sweet sometimes Grumpy do you know that?" She managed a faint smile. "Did you mean what you said?"

"When?" he asked warily.

She sucked in another deep breath, remembered Nick and Zoe's advice and took all her courage in her hands "When you told my mother you loved me. Did you mean it or were you just saying it to get shot of her?"

Dylan suddenly felt very sick. Oh Christ she'd heard. He'd been hoping that she wouldn't have done which was stupid really because he'd been so furious he hadn't troubled to lower his voice. They'd probably heard his declaration on the boat next door and the towpath too. He could hardly deny it now. He'd have to be honest and hope she didn't throw it back in his face.

"Of course I meant it," he said very quickly before he had time to change his mind. "There's only ever been you. Surely you know that."

"But you said... you said," Sam stammered her eyes overflowing with tears again "when we fought before I went back to Afghanistan you said you'd never loved me."

"I said a lot of things then, and I didn't mean any of them," he said pulling her tighter into his arms and holding her close "I was hurt and I was angry so I lashed out. I wanted you to hurt as much as I did. I'm not proud of how I behaved that night."

That was the understatement of the year. He was thoroughly ashamed of the way he'd behaved that evening. At first he'd thought he'd had right on his side and he'd stayed righteously indignant for several hours as he stormed across woods and fields in a towering rage but eventually he'd sobered up and walked off the worst of his fury and then he'd remembered the terrified small woman cowering in the armchair under the onslaught of his words and worse he remembered how nearly he'd hit her. He had damned nearly knocked the woman he loved across the room in a blind drunken rage. Whatever the provocation and no matter how angry he was his behaviour had been totally unacceptable. He was fairly sure that it was luck more than good management that had stopped him hurting her. He'd never drunk again. Understandably, she'd been gone by the time he got back.

"I deserved it," she said quietly "I'd have deserved if you had hit me."

"No Sam you didn't and you wouldn't have done. There's no provocation strong enough to make it all right to hit a woman. If there's one thing I'm glad about it's that I didn't harm you. I was so angry and so bloody pissed I dread to think what I might have done to you."

"But you didn't hurt me." She said in a very small voice.

"Not physically... I haven't had a drink since you know," he assured her. There was no way he'd ever risk behaving like that again. He'd terrified her.

"It wasn't the drink; it was what I did that provoked you." She excused him "I know it's not an excuse but I didn't plan it. I never meant it to happen."

"Sam it doesn't matter not anymore." He told her and realised that he really meant it. It didn't matter anymore.

"Yes it does," she said tearfully "I need to tell you it was a mistake it was nothing. Meant nothing."

"Why don't we accept we've both made mistakes and have actions we regret and leave it in the past where it belongs," Dylan said urgently.

He had forgiven his wife for that one aberration but he did not want to hear the details didn't want to know anymore than he'd already heard in her desperate tearful confession nearly two years ago.

"Because I've only told you half the story and you need to hear the rest," Sam insisted.

"I'm not sure I do," he reiterated not at all sure this was something he wanted to hear.

Sam took a deep breath, she didn't want to drag it all back up and open the locked box in her mind where she kept it hidden but if they were going to make a go of it there couldn't be any secrets. "We'd had an appalling time. I'd done 14 Cas Evacs in three days, there were all these young men, boys really dying in front of me and there was nothing I could do. They had horrific injuries most of them died and the ones who lived I'm not sure that they wouldn't have been better off if they hadn't."

"Sam don't do this if it's too difficult" he urged her.

She took no notice and carried on determined he should know the worst. "We were finally sent off duty to get some rest and I wanted you. I wanted you to hold me while I cried. To make it all alright again but you couldn't because you were miles away and I was alone. So I went along to the Mess for a cup of tea and to wind down a bit. You know you can't have a drink at Bastion – alcohol's banned in war zones? Anyway one of the other officers had smuggled a bottle of rum in – his brother had posted it in a shampoo bottle I think. Any other day I'd have reminded him booze was banned and refused a drink but I wanted to wipe the ghastly day out and I thought what the hell. So I agreed to go back to his room and share this bloody bottle of Rum."

"Did he take advantage of you?" Dylan asked suddenly believing he knew how this story was going to end.

"No. Well no more than I took advantage of him. I didn't know what I was doing but I'm pretty sure that he didn't either. Neither of us had touched a drop for months and neither of us had eaten all day I'm not sure if I had the day before either. I was drunker than I've ever been in my life. The next thing I knew I was crying and he was holding me and kissing me and I think I thought he was you. At least part of the time I did. I called him Dylan anyway. It was all over in minutes – seconds probably, he hurt me, I realised who he was and I was appalled – we both were – he had a girlfriend at home." Sam was crying in earnest again, "I threw up all over him and I'm not sure how much was from alcohol and how much was disgust and shock. I spent two hours in the shower and cried all night. I've never felt so guilty in my life. I still do. I'm sorry Dylan. I'm so sorry. If I could go back I'd never drink that bloody Rum. I'd drink my tea and go blamelessly to bed and it would never have happened. I only ever wanted you."

"Sam, please stop torturing yourself like this. I've forgiven you isn't it about time you forgave yourself." He begged her unable to bear her obvious distress.

"You've forgiven me?" she asked in disbelief.

"Months ago, I don't think I'd realised it but when I was driving up to Birmingham not knowing whether you were still alive or of you' survive long enough for me to get to you. I knew I had and it didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that you got better." Dylan told her, remembering that nightmare drive and his certainty that all that mattered was that his Sam was ok.

"Really," she looked at him with big blue tear stained eyes and he wondered if Sam hadn't suffered more than he had over the whole fiasco.

"Really! When Zoe and I were trapped in the ED at Christmas I was convinced we'd die there. She asked me if there was anything I regretted. I lied to her and told her I regretted something that never even happened because I didn't want to tell her the truth that my biggest regret is screwing up our marriage. I didn't want to tell her about us because it mattered too much but I was thinking about you and regretting that I wasn't going to be able to tell you I was sorry. That I still loved you." He told her surprised that the words were coming so easily now he'd started.

She'd buried her face in his shoulder and was sobbing again "I was so frightened that night; I was so sure you were going to die and I'd lost you. I couldn't explain to anyone what the matter was (I think Nick thought I'd lost the plot completely) because I'd promised you not to tell. Then Noel rang me and it all came out anyway and when you got out you were so cross and so cold. I just wanted you to hold me and you said in front of everyone I was only technically your wife and I had a big mouth. I gave up then, knew you'd never forgive me."

"I'm sorry. We seem to have a unique talent for hurting each other." Dylan said ruefully "Please don't cry anymore the water's meant to be outside the boat not on it. Carry on like this and you'll sink us sweetheart. We've made a right old mess of things haven't we,"

She made an effort to pull herself together, sniffed a couple of times and reached for a tissue and began to mop at her eyes. "It is a mess," she admitted "but it's our mess. Do you think maybe we could sort it out?"

"I'd like to try," he said quietly "I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either. There'll never be anyone else for me." She was struggling not to cry again, "and I've lost my wedding ring. It was round my neck when I went on the Cas Evac and when I was back in Birmingham it was gone."

"Oh I forgot with everything else that's been going on" he dug in his pocket and produced a small box which he presented to her. "I think you'll find that's yours."

She opened it curiously and found the familiar small gold band, shining and polished like new. "Where did you find it?"

"It was with your things they sent back from Bastion but it was in a bit of a bad way. I don't know if you landed on it or it was the blast but it was crushed and twisted out of shape. I rather think it caused that nasty wound on your neck. I wasn't sure they could repair it but I took it back to the place where I bought it and asked them to try. They couldn't hammer it back into shape but they used the gold to reshape it. There's probably not much of the original left to be honest." He explained carefully omitting to tell her that getting it repaired had cost about three times as much as it had originally cost.

"Dylan," her eyes were shining with tears again.

"For goodness sake woman you'll make me regret not buying shares in Kleenex I'm losing out on a fortune," he said trying to conceal his relief that she was pleased.

She still couldn't speak so she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him gently at fist but then with increasing ardour. When he kissed her back she hoped he'd taken it as the thank you she couldn't begin to articulate. He tugged the elastic off her now loose and messy plait and fanned the long blonde hair out over her shoulders running his hand through the soft strands the way he'd done so many times before.

Dervla sensing this was an occasion on which she was distinctly detrop slunk behind the sofa on the other side of the room and put her paws over her ears. She really preferred it when they shut her out before they started all that soppy stuff. Some things were more than any self respecting dog should be asked to endure. What kind of responsible owners behaved like that?

* * *

><p>Much later having successfully negotiated the sleeping arrangements without the need for any conversation at all, they were curled up in the middle of the bed, her head back in its familiar position on his shoulder and his arm clamping her firmly to his side.<p>

"I've missed you," he whispered in her ear.

"Missed you too," she gave him a sleepy smile "this bed's really quite cold if you sleep in it alone."

Dylan sat up and reached for the small box which was lying where they'd discarded it on the floor some hours ago. "I can get you another chain if you like but I was wondering if perhaps you'd consider letting me put this back where it belongs Mrs Keogh."

Sam stared at him in disbelief for approximately thirty seconds while his words sank in and she processed their meaning. Then she silently removed her left hand from the warmth of the quilt and pushed it into his.

Dylan produced that slow half smile of his and gently pushed the shiny gold band on to her fourth finger before pulling her back into his arms and settling down against the pillows.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed it. That's all of it except for an epilogue I planned to post tonight but it will almost certainly be tomorrow now (if not Wednesday as I was talked into babysitting for my niece tomorrow so my brother &amp; SiL can go out) and I have to work tomorow thus must sleep now.<em>

_H_


	10. Chapter 10

_Finally I've finished this. Thank you all for reading it and your patience while waiting for the final part. I am still not 100% happy with it but I think it is the best I can do with it. I regret it is so sugary that it might give you tooth decay and I would like to make clear that I will not be responsible for any dental bills. I can't afford my own._

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

Sam and Dylan held hands walking along the towpath like two teenagers. If it hadn't been for Sam's almost imperceptible limp you might have thought they were a pair of lovestruck teenagers. They were barely touching yet the connection between them was still obvious.

They walked past the place where the houseboat they'd called home for more than two years had once been moored. She was long gone now – age and the weather had inevitably led to the boats deterioration and she'd been sold for scrap more than a decade ago. Sam had been inconsolable when it happened even though it wasn't theirs anymore.

"I miss our boat," Sam said wistfully "We were so happy there."

"We were," Dylan agreed "But we couldn't stay. It was impossible you know it was."

"I know, and I'm used to the house now," she replied.

"It only took you what ten years to decide you liked it?" he teased her as he so often did. He often insisted that getting Sam to agree to buy the house had taken ten years or more off his life.

"Not quite that long," she denied at once.

They'd found the big old house further down the towpath more than twenty years ago and aside from the fact that it was in need of what the estate agent called extensive modernisation and Dylan called a virtual rebuild it was perfect. In other circumstances the beautiful house overlooking the Marina with a garden that stretched right down to the water would have been the kind of house that featured in Homes and Gardens or Country Living however this rambling pile belonged to the Keogh's and as such the glossy magazines would not be rushing to sign it up for their aspirational living pages anytime soon.

Neither of them was exactly what you might call domesticated, so the house while comfortable was also chaotic and untidy with peeling exterior paint and heaps of sporting equipment on the grass but for all that it was their home and there was plenty of space for the ever expanding Keogh family to spread out in and Sam had once acknowledged that it was only all the space that had kept her out of the criminal courts for murdering her spouse.

It had been a good long time before she'd seen the house as home Sam reflected. She hadn't wanted to leave their cosy little houseboat neither had Dylan but there'd come a point when they'd had no choice but to acknowledge they'd outgrown the boat. All their friends and colleagues and thought they were barking not to move as soon as Sam had announced her first pregnancy – something she'd refused to do until it was so obvious they'd all guessed anyway.

Harry had been completely unplanned and his impending arrival had stunned his parents, neither of them had considered for one moment that their fairly spontaneous reunion would have any lasting consequences. Indeed Sam was barely sick and had failed to notice she was pregnant until she was 14 weeks in but their son had been born virtually 38 weeks to the day after they'd patched up their marriage. They'd both been surprised by how pleased they were with him.

Children hadn't been something they'd discussed or thought about and suddenly they were responsible for a tiny person. Luckily he'd been as unlike them as possible he resembled Dylan in looks but not in personality as he was a big, calm, amenable baby who cried rarely and had generally fitted comfortably into their lives. He slept peacefully in his cot in the corner of their room and even Dervla worshipped him.

The four of them had been happy living in the admittedly rather cramped boat until just before Harry's first birthday when equally unexpected twin brothers Matt and Ben had joined him. Nick Jordan had said some exceptionally rude things about people on his staff who called themselves doctors when Sam had informed she'd need a second set of maternity leave while Lenny and Tom had presented Dylan with an informative little book which he had not thanked them for.

They'd planned to stay where they were but coping in such restricted quarters had been next to impossible; with just the one bedroom there just wasn't enough space for all the paraphernalia required by three babies. It had been clear they'd have to move and quickly. Once they'd found the house, they'd packed up and moved with a very bad grace

"Do you remember how much I cried the day we moved in?" Sam asked.

"How could I forget? It was one of the many occasions that I wished I'd bought shares in Kleenex but when I suggested we find somewhere smaller now the boys are all away, you told me where to go," Dylan reminded her.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you'll be carrying me out of my home in my box, Dylan Keogh." She told him firmly.

"I rather think it will be the boys carrying you out. I'll be the one leaving first," he pointed out "women always outlive men and I'm eight years older than you."

It was something he brought up now and again and Sam knew he was probably right. He was older than her and women's life expectancy was longer. She'd always known at the back of her mind that one day she would lose him but she still didn't like talking about it or even thinking about it. She wasn't at all sure how she'd face life without him even with their children and probably by then grandchildren to keep her going – Harry had bought the same girl home three times that had to mean something. She changed the subject quickly.

"Before you know it you'll be sixty then what will you do? Shall we have a party?" she asked knowing full well what his answer would be

"Are you mad woman? Why would I want a party?" he declared in disgust.

"To celebrate, people do you know." she answered knowing she'd wind him up.

"I don't do parties you know that." he said crossly "I'd much rather do what we've just done, have a nice meal together and a peaceful walk."

"Don't I just. Look where you not wanting a party got us when you were fifty!" she grinned at him knowing full well neither of them regretted the consequences of avoiding that particular party.

"Thirty years," Dylan mused "No one ever thought we'd stay married this long."

"Least of all us. God knows it didn't look like we'd manage it at first." Sam agreed sometimes she wondered how they'd done it after all she still longed to throttle him at least twice a day. "And I haven't killed you yet. I deserve a medal."

"You deserve a medal what about me?" he objected.

"You have me why would you need a medal?" Sam asked.

"As a reward for endurance: Thirty years of marriage to you, bringing up 4 sons and putting them through medical school and most of all living with Alice," he explained.

"Endurance, my foot you should be grateful I still put up with you." She teased. "I'm the one who had 4 babies in 4 years and Alice is your favourite don't deny it."

They turned in at the gate of the large rambling house, which seemed a little too big now that Harry was an F1 in London (sensibly he'd decided not to work anywhere near his parents insisting they would show him up.) and their three younger sons were creating havoc at a prestigious Medical School. Dylan frequently said he feared for any of the patients they came into contact with and the reputation of the establishment which was attempting to educate them. Now it was just them a large daft Old English Sheepdog and their precious only daughter Alice.

Parents were not supposed to have favourites but Dylan found it difficult to conceal just how much he treasured his daughter. She had been such a wonderful surprise. They'd decided they were done with children after their fourth son was born. Sam had decreed four babies was enough and he'd agreed with her. It was fortunate that Alice had her brothers wrapped around her little finger and they would never have dreamed of resenting her. All she had known in her life was the love and adoration of all the male members of her family. Zoe had once said that the only person who ever dared say no to Alice was Sam and if the truth were told she'd been right.

The secret of Dylan's adoration of the small girl was simple. She was her mother all over again. He'd always secretly wanted a daughter but when their fourth son had arrived he'd accepted it wasn't going to happen and he might as well be content with what they had but it hadn't stopped him secretly hankering after a daughter like his wife. All four boys were large, placid and amenable, how they were so easygoing when he and Sam were anything but was incomprehensible. Alice on the other hand was a small volatile dynamo of a child and a miniature version of her mother in looks.

It was his fiftieth birthday when he had typically refused any fuss or a party and gone away for an ostensible romantic long weekend with Sam to avoid any fuss or surprise parties his so called friends and colleagues might decide to arrange. They'd left a rather apprehensive Zoe and Nick in charge who had clearly been a little worried about supervising four teenage boys. Actually it was more of a weekend away anyway he didn't do hearts and flowers neither of them did really. They'd chosen to go walking in the Lakes a decision, which had horrified Zoe who had thought Paris or New York more suitable for a big birthday. She'd made Nick take her to Rome for her fiftieth. It had suited them though. A weekend by themselves away from four active teenage boys was blissful.

The walks were of necessity shorter than they used to be. Much as he hated to admit it he was older and less fit and Sam's hip had recovered well but it would always be slightly stiff. However they'd still managed several long walks and a couple of easy climbs. They'd made a concession to their advancing age and Sam's sybaritic preference for running hot water and flush lavatories and rented a cottage instead of camping as they'd done in former years.

After a weekend of pub suppers, long evenings and curling up in front of a log fire they'd come home with a belated and unanticipated birthday present in the form of Alice. Sam had taken it all quite calmly but Dylan had been horrified at first mostly because of the risk to Sam. He'd spent days looking up the likely complications for elderly multiparas until Sam had finally told him if he called her elderly one more time she was going to bloody well brain him with that damned obstetrics textbook. It would all be fine if he just stopped fussing and if he didn't shut up it was him who would not be fine. Of course it had been fine, she couldn't say it was as easy at 42 as it had been when she was 26 and she hadn't bounced back quite so fast but it wasn't so bad. They'd all survvied the experience more or less intact even if Dylan's nervs had been a bit frayed but potentially less frayed than those of the obstetrician who'd cared for her under Dylan's increasingly obsessive supervison.

Initially their sons had been appalled, Harry at 15 had found the whole thing completely mortifying Matt and Ben had spent months muttering about disgusting parents who were too old for all that and Tim refused to acknowledge the impending new baby at all. Once she was there though they had all worshipped their baby sister and more or less forgiven her the acute embarrassment her arrival had caused them and indeed still sometimes caused them. Harry had admitted that one colleague on seeing Alice's photo in his room had assumed she was his daughter and hadn't wanted to believe she was his sister until he'd dug out a photo of the seven of them and the dog together.

Alice had also wrecked several of her brothers' romances. Sam had been appalled when she'd overheard Alice explaining to her adored Uncle Nick "I did not like Tim's new girlfriend so she went..." She didn't like to think how Alice had organised the unfortunate Camilla's departure but had no doubts that she had. Dylan of course hadn't believed his Ally was capable of such a thing. It was strange that someone normally so cynical could have quite such a blind spot where one small girl was concerned. Sam was under no such illusions their daughter was intelligent, pretty, charming and could be incredibly sweet but she was also manipulative, wayward, disobedient and absolutely determined to get her own way. She needed much firmer handling than any of her brothers.

"Hard to believe we didn't intend to have any children isn't it," she said.

"You didn't complain at the time," he reminded her.

"No and I'm still not. I wouldn't change any of it. Well just one thing." Sam said quietly.

Her one lapse had occurred twenty-seven years ago and she still regretted it, still wished it had never happened. No one knew about except her and Dylan, not their children or their colleagues and friends. Long ago they'd made a pact to keep it solely between themselves. She'd tried to forget but she never quite could it was always there at the back of her mind. Sometimes she didn't think about it for weeks or months but it was always there in the background. If she could turn the clock back it was the one thing she'd change. She'd still do all the rest again; Dylan, her children and even the accident.

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you not to think about it I don't" Dylan said firmly. "What does five minutes out of thirty years matter?"

"It will always matter to me," she said softly. It was a piece of the past she found incredibly hard to live with.

"It hasn't mattered to me for years, so don't spend the next thirty years worrying about it like you have the last." Then he rapidly changed the subject. "You know you don't look old enough to have been married 30 years,"

He glanced sideways at his wife who despite 5 children remained enviably slim and was still very blonde although she did now rely on a little discreet help from an excellent and very expensive hairdresser – that particular line of the credit card bill always distressed him but he'd accepted it was part of the price he paid for a happy wife.

"Flattery will get you everywhere. You on the other hand." She grinned at him mischievously. "Maybe I'll trade you in for a younger model."

"You're assuming that anyone else will have you," he said.

"Tom's always fancied me," she said smugly.

"He'd run a mile if he actually thought you were going to anything about it," her husband retorted.

She laughed "He would, wouldn't he. Anyway he's not my type I always had a thing for older men. Well one in particular anyway."

"Have you ever regretted marrying me?" he asked suddenly serious.

"All the time," she teased "Never. I was far too young to know what I was doing but I've never been sorry. Even when it looked like it was all over I still didn't regret that I'd married you only that I'd screwed it up, but I still won't let Alice get married when she's 21."

"Would your Mother have been able to stop you?" he replied.

"God no! Once I'd decided I wanted you that was it." She told him calmly,

"You always did know your own mind. What would you have done if I didn't want you?" Dylan said.

"But I knew you did, you just didn't know how to say so." She grinned at him, remembering exactly how she'd convinced the unconventional and awkward registrar to give her a chance.

"You couldn't have made me do anything I didn't want to." Dylan told her. "You know that. Miriam told me not to go near you with a ten foot barge pole. She said you'd be career suicide and I ignored her."

"She said what?" Sam looked at him incredulously "I thought she liked me."

"She did. But she thought it would destroy us both. Said everyone would say I was a cradle snatcher and you were sleeping your way to the top."

"I didn't have a clue," Sam said "why didn't you tell me?"

"Seemed safer, I wasn't entirely sure you wouldn't go and tell Miriam what you thought," he explained

"I would have done, meddling old cow." Sam retorted even after all these years she was still furious with her for her unnecessary interference. "So that was why you called it all off and I was forced to turn up in your on call room in that dress and persuade you to give me another chance."

"I missed you so much I was planning to do the unheard of and apologise," he admitted "but it would have been a shame to miss out on that dress."

"I'd have waited if I'd known that. Dylan Keogh admit he was wrong." She teased "Has that ever happened?"

"Once or twice – perhaps!" he admitted unwillingly. "But people did say exactly what Miriam said they would Sam you know they did."

"Only until they found something else to gossip about it was so much less exciting once we were married."

They went into the house, to relieve Zoe and Nick who had agreed to babysit for their goddaughter but after nearly four hours they were both probably on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Last time she'd looked after Alice an exhausted Zoe had pronounced that she was more trouble than all four boys put together. She had not responded well to Nick suggesting she found it harder work now because she was so much older. In fact Sam had a suspicion there had probably been a domestic in their car on the way home

They joined then in what other owners would have called the drawing room; it had large French doors out to the garden and a big open fire with a large grey tabby cat sleeping peacefully in front of it. The sofas had definitely seen better days. It was no wonder, the boisterous Keogh children and their pets had used them as vaulting horses, pirate ships, forts and whatever else had taken their fancy. One sofa was temporarily out of use because it was being monopolised by a large Old English sheepdog. Dervla had died peacefully of old age before Alice was born and was buried under the apple tree outside. Sam sprawled comfortably across Dylan on one of them and smiled at the babysitters.

"Was Alice good?" she asked more in hope than anticipation.

"Tolerably so," Nick said thoughtfully "she only conned me into seven bedtime stories."

Dylan breathed a sigh of relief, "At least now she's out for the count and I don't have to worry about her doing anything else perilous until the morning."

"I wouldn't bank on that." Sam said cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" he asked anxiously

"I don't want to worry you but there's a pair of bare feet in that tree outside the window." Sam pointed out.

Dylan followed her gaze and saw the small pair of pink feet clinging to the branches of the tree outside and the bottoms of a pair of pale blue pyjamas and groaned loudly

"What have I done to deserve this? Sam make your daughter go to bed. She doesn't listen to a word I say," he complained.

"You could try asking knowing she'll go rather than hoping." Sam shook her head laughing at him and went to retrieve the determined small blonde and thwart her attempts to escape "Alice, you are supposed to be in your bed".

"I'm not tired and I don't want to go to sleep." The small girl announced petulantly.

"I didn't ask whether you wanted too." Sam said wearily.

"It's not fair – the boys are in the boat." Alice protested.

"The boys are grownups. You are not," Sam told her firmly.

"I am big enough to go in the boat. Harry, Ben, Matt and Tim said if I could get out without Auntie Zoe catching me I could go." Alice explained.

"Well you didn't so you can't." Sam said inflexibly.

"I did," Alice objected. "Auntie Zoe didn't catch me – you did!" She beamed hopefully at her parents.

"You are still going back to bed." Sam insisted, trying not to laugh. Sometimes it was very difficult to be the responsible parent when it would have been so easy to give in and take her small daughter on an evening boat trip but if she wasn't firm about bedtime she could be sure that no one else would be.

"Why?" Alice was overly fond of asking why. Dylan was convinced it was a sign of intelligence and an enquiring mind. Sam thought it was a deliberate ploy to infuriate her family.

"You are only nine and girls who are nine can't play in boats past their bedtime." Sam said helplessly wishing Dylan would back her up instead of looking at her as if she was the mean Mummy."

"Why not?" Alice asked again.

"It's a school day tomorrow you won't learn anything if you're too sleepy." Sam said with resignation.

"I don't like school anyway," Alice said as if this clinched the argument and in her opinion it probably did. "And I'm not sleepy. Daddy tell her I'm not sleepy."

"If you're mother says it is bedtime then it is," Dylan declared promptly abdicating all responsibility for both the decision and implementing it.

Sam took a reluctant Alice back inside to return her to the hated bed. "Some babysitters you are," she said accusingly to Nick and Zoe "letting her escape and not even noticing."

"You've got exactly the daughter you deserve?" Nick grinned broadly "Alice is just you all over again."

"You didn't know me when I was nine." Sam retorted.

"No but I bet you were impossible, you were one of the most unconventional F2's I've ever had to cope with" he informed her.

"Hmph, Alice no excuses and no more stories you are going back to bed and you will stay there," she herded the unwilling little girl up the stairs in front of her.

"I must have done something really wicked in a past life. I spent the first part of my life trying to stop Sam doing reckless things and now I have a daughter who's even worse." Dylan sighed theatrically.

"Come off it we all know Alice is the apple of your eye." Zoe said "You've all spoilt her rotten from the moment she was born."

"If you think she's trouble now," Nick said smugly to Dylan "What do you think she'll be like when she discovers boys!"

"She's not going to," Dylan pronounced firmly "I know just what teenage boys are like. I'm locking her up until she's 30 at least."

"Dylan I had 4 children by the time I was thirty." Sam told him returning in time to hear him.

"Exactly," he announced "The boys have agreed to help me vet everyone who's allowed near her. Harry says if he shoots the first one the others will learn by example."

They all laughed. "You should count yourself lucky Sam doesn't have any brothers Dylan or they'd have shot you years ago." Nick said with amusement. "It was quite remiss of her father not to do so."

"If he hadn't been dead, he probably would have done." Dylan agreed. "I deserved it."

"It's weird," Zoe said thoughtfully when you both started at Holby none of us could imagine you were married and now no one can imagine you not being."

"Zoe," Nick remonstrated

"Well we couldn't. I mean it was obvious there was something but I thought Sam was Dylan's daughter and Ruth thought you were her big brother. Lenny merely thought you'd had a raging affair."

Sam collapsed on the sofa in a fit of helpless giggles. "Why did no one ever tell me this?"

"We were talking about you not to you." Zoe informed her "Of course the truth was even more shocking than the speculation. When would you have told us if you hadn't been found out? Would you ever?"

"You have had too much red wine," Nick said firmly "and I'm taking you home before you say something you'll really regret."

"Spoilsport," Zoe grumbled but she did put her shoes on and allow Nick to help her on with her coat. "I'll tell you all about it later." She assured Sam "When misery guts here isn't around."

Nick assured her hastily to the door and bundled her into the car. Once they'd gone Sam turned to her husband her eyes still sparkling with amusement. "Did Zoe really tell you she thought I was your daughter?"

"She did." Dylan said non-committally.

"It's quite funny really, we were so desperate for no one to know we'd ever been together and they all knew anyway. We've been lucky haven't we?" she said changing the subject "Not everyone gets a second chance the way we did."

"Very lucky," he agreed brushing a kiss on her forehead. "I know I'm rubbish about saying it Sam but you do know you're the only one for me. I've loved you all this time and I'll still love you in another thirty years."

Sam could feel a huge lump forming in her throat and tears prickled behind her eyelids. Dylan expressed his feelings so rarely it meant the world when he actually managed to say the words. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he'd told her he loved her this year. He showed her he loved her all the time in countless little ways but hardly ever told her. Not that she was much better with words.

"I love you too and I'm going to hold you to it. You do realise you'll have to make it to almost ninety for that, so you'll have to look after yourself." She stood up and tugged on his hand. "Come on Grumpy let's go to bed. I'm tired and could do with a cuddle."

She towed him up the stairs deciding the clearing up could wait for tomorrow. Getting this far was one heck of an achievement and a milestone most people had thought they'd never make. This evening was for them and she was going to make the most of it.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed it. As always if you did please say so and bolster my ego. I am not well and need all the help I can get.<em>


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